Starting Over
by Alexandri
Summary: A JoanAdam future fic. After pursuing an art career in NYC for four years, Adam has returned to Arcadia. Can he and Joan revive their relationship? I upped the rating as a precaution. COMPLETE.
1. The Prodigal Son Returns

A/N:  This is my first fan fic and I have pretty much no clue what I'm doing. J  I'm a bit on the wordy side, so my chapters (I'm hoping to develop this story over several chapters if enough people are interested) will be a little long.  Please R&R and hopefully keep me from writing myself into a corner.  Anyway, I hope y'all like it.  If you do, I'll try to put up a new chapter each week.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to Joan of Arcadia.  However, I am endlessly fascinated by how many people want to own Chris Marquette.  He is adorable, isn't he?

            _"Come with me."  _

_            Joan glanced at Adam as he plopped onto the sofa next to her.  He smiled that bright, boyish smile of his.  She couldn't help but smile back.  "Where are we going?" she asked, putting her book aside._

_            Adam playfully bumped her shoulder with his.  "To __New York__, yo.  Come with me to __New York__."_

_            "What?"  Joan laughed.  Move to __New York__.  Yeah, right. She couldn't move to __New York__.  She almost said so, but the look on Adam's face stopped her.  It was such an earnest look.  "Are you . . . are you serious?"_

_            "Yeah."  He clasped her hands in his as if he wanted to transfer his excitement through touch.  "We could get an apartment together and everything.  We wouldn't have to be apart, Jane."  He paused and stared at her, willing her to say, "Yes, that's a wonderful idea."  _

_Instead she just sat there—mouth open, mind racing, heart pounding. She was twenty-two years and, while Adam had always known that art was his future, Joan was still trying to figure out which path to take.  She didn't want to be the girl who followed the guy and then lost any sense of direction she'd ever had.  Besides, she and Adam had finally gotten to a good, stable place in their relationship.  Moving in together, moving to __New York__—they weren't ready, were they?  She wasn't ready.  Why risk what they had with a potentially disastrous move to a whole, other region?  _

_            As she tried to overcome her rampant fears, Adam's face fell.  He lowered her hands into her lap and put his in his pockets.  She felt cold as if the sun had died.  "Adam," she said, her voice pleading with him to understand._

_            He just shook his head.  "You won't come."_

_            She tried to tell him—tried to explain her concerns.  But the words wouldn't come.  Joan wrapped her arms around her waist and lowered her head to hide the tears shimmering in her eyes.  "I'm sorry."_

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

"Ugh!"  Joan threw her pen down, disgusted with her inability to focus on the papers in front of her.  "This is ridiculous."

            "Problem?" Grace asked as she came into the living room.  She sat on the sofa, nestled her popcorn bowl in her lap and observed her roommate.  

            Joan dropped her face in her hands before thrusting them into her hair.  "Something is most definitely wrong," she groaned.  

            Grace stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth and watched Joan fold her arms on the table and bury her face in them.  "This problem of yours wouldn't concern a certain prodigal son, would it?"

            "How did you know?" Joan asked.  She winced at the pathetic moan otherwise known as her voice, but thinking about Adam had that effect on her.  

            Grace scoffed.  

"Wait a minute."  Joan stared up at her friend in disbelief.  "You knew he was back in town?  I had to find out reading the paper.  Why didn't you tell me?"

            "One, I'm not the one who stopped talking to him.   Two, I knew you'd get all worked up about it if I did."  Grace held out her bowl to Joan.   "Popcorn?"

            Joan glared at Grace.  "No, thank you." 

            "Suit yourself."  Grace picked up the remote and turned on her movie.  

            "That's it?" Joan demanded.  "'Suit yourself?'  Some friend you are."

            "What do you want from me, Girardi?" Grace asked without taking her eyes off the car chase on the screen.

            "Help me," Joan pleaded. "Tell me what to do."

            Grace snorted.  "Like you'd listen."

            "Just tell me," Joan said, resisting the urge to throw something at her.

            "All right."  Grace focused all of her attention on her distraught friend.  "Here goes.  Don't do anything."

            Joan was certain she hadn't heard correctly.  "You're kidding, right?"

            "No."  Reluctantly, Grace paused her movie and turned back to Joan.  "Right now, you're upset.  If you go over there now, there's no telling what will happen.  So wait a couple of days and then go see him.  If he hasn't come to you first, that is."

            It was Joan's turn to snort.  "As if he would."

            Grace pushed the play button and decided not to answer.  She was sure that Joan would be gone within the hour. 

            Fifty-five minutes later, Joan pulled up in front of the Rove house.


	2. Awkward Hellos, Bittersweet Goodbyes

A/N: Thank you so much.  I'm glad y'all liked it.  Since I have chapter two pretty much done, I've decided to go ahead and post it.  Now for responses:

- Yes, I definitely need to work on incorporating inner dialogue.  It's sort of a weak spot in my writing.  However, I think this chapter has a lot of it.

- Admiral Lily: I know that I can promise to deliver one and two.  As for three, I may go a bit overboard (I'm really trying not to, I swear), and I'm pretty certain I can promise number four.  I haven't figured out the end yet, but I'm something of a hopeless romantic, so the odds are good.  

Okay, then.  On with chapter two.

Disclaimer:  I own nothing in relation to Joan of Arcadia.

_The park was as alive as it had always been.  Sunlight danced on the leaves and rocks and people.  Kids played with gleeful abandon on the grass while their parents gazed on, adoring and content.  A world of beauty was laid out at Joan's feet._

_But she wasn't aware of any of it from her perch on the park bench.  All she could see was Adam leaning toward her, giving her a perfunctory peck on the cheek.  "Good-bye," he said.  Then he boarded the plane without a second glance.  _

_He was gone.  _

_Joan closed her eyes against the fresh stab of pain the memory brought.  He hadn't even said her name.  Not Jane.  Not Joan.  It was as if she had ceased to matter to him.  _

_"You know that's not true."_

_Joan turned toward the voice.  Little Girl God pushed her glasses up on her nose.  "He still loves you, Joan.  He's just hurting right now."_

_With a mirthless laugh, Joan drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.  "He's not the only one."  She lay her head on her knees and let the tears come.            _

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Joan sat in her car staring at the Roves' front door.  Now that she was here, she didn't know what to do.  She couldn't just walk up to the front door and say, "Hey, how's life."  Not after the way things had ended between them.  Fighting her uncertainty, Joan got out of the car and picked her way through Adam's sculptures to the porch.  She hesitated.  What would she say when he answered, if he answered?  "Stop stalling," she admonished.  With courage she didn't feel, she knocked, anxious to see Adam but hoping his father answered.  When no one answered, she knocked again and tried to keep the cold and her growing dread—perhaps they were the same thing—at bay.  He probably didn't want to see her anyway.  Not that she blamed him.

She had just decided to go home when the door opened.  "Joan."  He didn't sound surprised to see her.

"Hi, Mr. Rove."  Joan risked a glance at Adam's father.  An indulgent smile softened his grief-worn face.  Relief filled her, temporarily driving back the fear of the moments before.

"Long time, no see."

Joan could only nod.  Her relief at Mr. Rove's mild greeting faded when she realized he might have answered because Adam really didn't want to see her.  What was she going to do if that was true?  What if . . .

"He's in the shed."

"Of course."  Where else would he be?  Out with potential buyers.  Or friends.  Or a girlfriend.  Or . . . .  "Thanks, Mr. Rove."

He gave her an encouraging smile and closed the door.

After a deep, fortifying breath to calm her strained nerves, Joan walked down the porch steps and made her way around to the backyard.  She tried not to think about what might happen.  He could still be mad at her and tell her to go and never come back.  Or patiently listen to what she had to say—whatever that was; she had no clue—before announcing their relationship irrevocably dead.  Or he could . . .

She stopped just short of the shed's door.  Blue light flickered in the doorway—he was working.  Tentatively, she peeked through the door.  Adam stood bent over his work table, apron and gloves on, a welder's mask covering his face.  He was putting the finishing touches on a piece.  

Joan leaned against the doorjamb and soaked in the sight of him.  He moved differently—with more purpose than she remembered.  A flourishing art career in New York City could do that for a guy, she thought with a smile.  His shoulders were broader.  He seemed taller, more substantial, stronger somehow—no longer the boy she'd known and loved.  In the last four years, her Adam had matured into a man.  She'd missed it.    And he wasn't hers anymore.  She needed to remember that.

He turned off the blowtorch and set it down before taking off his mask.  Joan expelled the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.  Adam hadn't changed as much as she'd originally thought.  The boyishness was still there.  The same endearing, expressive eyes that saw everything and nothing simultaneously.  The soft, sensitive mouth.  The sweet, faint blush in his cheeks.  He was a perfect combination of strength and gentleness.  She could have stood there the rest of the night and just watched him. 

Instead, she knocked.  

Adam's head jerked up, his mouth falling open at the sight of her.  "Jane."

Jane.  It was a good sign.  Joan pushed off the doorjamb and ventured into the shed, poised to leave if he told her to.  He just watched her.

"Hi."  She stopped at the table.  Now what?  What exactly did you say to the man whose heart you broke four years ago?  I'm sorry?  Despite what you must think, I've always loved you?  I'd do anything to change what happened but, since I can't, I hope you'll one day forgive me?  "How are you?"

It was now official.  She was pathetic.

Adam didn't answer.  He just sank onto his stool and stared at her as if he couldn't believe she was really there.

The silence grew, painfully stretching her already tense nerves.  This was a mistake.  She should have listened to Grace, asked her to mediate, feel him out first.  Anything but rush over here and have Adam gape at her incredulously.  Why shouldn't he be incredulous?  She'd only broken his heart and practically severed all communication between them.  It didn't matter that she'd done so out of the sheer, unadulterated terror of messing up yet again.  And now she just waltzed into his shed like nothing had happened.  What had she been thinking?  This couldn't end well.  Joan stuffed her hands in her pockets and offered Adam a sad smile.  "I should go."

She had almost made it to the door when she felt his hand on her arm.  She stared down at his long, slim fingers and her breath caught in her throat.  Such magnificent hands.  How could such fine hands hold so much power over her?  Hesitantly, she laid her hand over his and almost moaned with the pleasure the simple act gave her.  She'd missed touching him.  Without a word, she leaned into the solid warmth of his body.  If only for a few seconds, she would pretend nothing had changed.

Adam still didn't say anything.  He just accepted her weight, put his arm around her waist, drew her closer.  Joan didn't give him time to reconsider and snuggled against him.  Her eyes drifted closed as she inhaled Adam's scent.  His warmth consumed the chill she'd felt all evening.  His arms tightened around her, drawing her even closer.  Giddiness welled up inside her and a giggle escaped before she could stop it.

"What?" he whispered as if he didn't want to break the spell.

She shook her head, not wanting the moment to end either.

"Tell me."  His voice was gentle as always but firm.

With a mental shrug, she said, "I was just thinking that a person would have to be very, very patient to put up with me."

Adam chuckled and gave her a little squeeze.  "Unchallenged."

The tenderness and humor of his answer proved her undoing.  Joan turned her face into the crook of his neck and sobbed.  All the love, sorrow, guilt, and regret she'd bottled up for the last four years poured out.  Adam just held her and stroked her back, murmuring nonsensical reassurances into her hair until her tears slowed to a trickle.  Finally, spent and a little embarrassed, Joan pulled back but couldn't bring herself to leave the comforting circle of his arms.  She couldn't look him in the face either.  

He kissed the top of her head then pulled away until he was holding her at arm's length.  Cautiously, he released her.  Satisfied that she could stand on her own, he crossed the room and came back with two Kleenex.  He dried her eyes and cheeks then handed her the napkins.  "You have to blow your own nose."

Joan took the tissue with a watery chuckle.  "Thanks."   She turned her back to him and moved as far away as the space allowed before blowing her nose.  After she threw the tissue away, her awkwardness returned.  She was the heartbreaker, after all.  What right did she have to cry on his shoulder?  To hide her discomfort, she focused on the various wires and tools hanging on the wall before her.

"Jane?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you here?"

Joan didn't answer immediately because she didn't know.  Why was she here?  What had she hoped to get out of this visit?  Suddenly, she realized that she hadn't hoped to accomplish anything.  She'd just needed to see him.  "I missed you."

She frowned and shook her head.  That wasn't quite right.  She turned slightly as if she were about to look at him.  "I _miss_ you."

Then Joan turned and looked at Adam.  He seemed surprised.  She shrugged and gave him a small, bittersweet smile.  "I have to go."  There wasn't anything else to say now.

Still smiling, Joan walked past Adam.  At the door, she stopped.  "Good night, Adam," she said, then left the shed.  


	3. Just The Beginning

A/N: Hey.  First, thank you all for your reviews.  They're wonderful for my ego.  I hope I can continue to live up to such praise.  Second, I want to apologize for this chapter taking so long.  I've known for days what happens but this is the time when my mind starts to wander all over the story and so I haven't been very focused.  BTW, Admiral Lily, I can promise number four, after all.

Now, for the acknowledgements.  Brie, I should have thanked you for your offer of help in my late update.  Sorry.  I've never been good with the electric communication thing.  This story is a sort of personal project: I'm trying to see if I can plot and write a story begin to end without giving up on it, so I won't take you up it for this story.  But I am thinking of a Grace and Luke-based sequel and I could definitely use help on that one.  So, thanks a bunch.

Finally (yes, I know, _really_ long author's notes), I promise to do better with the next chapter.  I'm just tired of piddling with this one.  Hope it's okay.

Danielle

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in connection with Joan of Arcadia.  Though, now that I think about, I think Luke has been shafted.  Not nearly as many people want to own him as Adam, and he's so adorable.  Oh, well.  On with the story.

_            She smelled like crisp, ripe apples on an autumn breeze.  Adam wondered how Jane always managed to smell like fall.  Not that it mattered.  She was here, not ten feet away from him.  He could tell by her rigid posture that she was nervous.  Though he hated the thought of causing her heartache, Adam was glad to know he wasn't the only one feeling insecure._

_            "Jane?"_

_            "Hmm?"  She didn't look at him but fiddled with a wire on the wall._

_            "Why are you here?"_

_            Jane stilled.  Adam's stomach clinched.  He hadn't realized how important her answer was until he asked.  What if all she wanted was closure?  She could still be hurt and angry with him for being so selfish.  So thoughtless.  What if this was good-bye?_

_            "I missed you."_

_            Adam was certain he misheard her.  She shook her head.  Of course, he'd misheard.  He opened his mouth to ask for clarification when she lifted her lead.  She was in profile, a slight smile on her perfect lips._

_            "I _miss_ you."_

_            Stunned, Adam watched as Jane turned to face him.  Never had she been lovelier, a heartbroken angel with a brave smile.  "I have to go."_

_            He let her pass.  He wanted to stop her but her words played over in his mind.  For the life of him, he couldn't move.  She missed him._

_            "Good night, Adam."  Good night, not good-bye._

_            She left then, her footsteps echoing in the night and Adam's ears._

_            The scent of apples on an autumn breeze lingered in the shed._

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

             Joan hurried up the steps of Arcadia High School juggling her briefcase, a stack of files, her purse, and a travel mug.  Today was not going to be a good day.  She could tell by the sense of strangeness she felt passing through the school's double doors.  Even though she'd worked at Arcadia High for almost a year, it often struck her as bizarre.  After all, she had spent three years desperately looking forward to the day when she'd never have to come here again.  

            As if to emphasize her thoughts, Joan's foot twisted beneath her, throwing her off balance.  But, instead of ending up sprawled on the floor like she expected, she found herself wrapped in a pair of protective, familiar arms.  Adam smiled down at her as he steadied her on her feet.  Surely, she was hallucinating.  Just wishful thinking.  There was no other reason for his presence.

            The illusion took the files out of her arms.  She blinked; okay, maybe she wasn't imagining him.  "Adam?"

            "Yeah?"  He glanced at her, obviously confused by her reaction. 

            "I—what are you doing here?"  They started down the hall toward her office.

            "I came to see your mom.  You know, about the arts festival.  It's this weekend."

            "Oh."  She didn't quite manage to keep the disappointment out of her voice.  "Right.  Yes.  Of course.  The festival."  Joan turned into her office to hide her embarrassed flush.  He wasn't here to see her.  

            Adam hovered in the doorway.   "Uh, Jane?  Why are we in the counselor's office?"

            Joan opened her mouth to answer, then closed it.  "I'm the counselor."

            His mouth forming a silent "oh," he came into the office and put her files on her desk.  Adam wandered over to the wall with her degrees—B.A in psychology, M.A. in school psychology.   He hadn't known, hadn't kept tabs on her.  It'd been too painful.  "How long?"

            "This is my first year here.  Last year, I worked at a school in California."

            He hadn't known that either.     "Why were you in California?"

            "I did my grad work there.  When I finished, I thought I'd settle there, but I missed home."  

            Adam thought of the mess his life in New York had become.  _I miss home, too_, he thought as he looked at her.  "Are you happy?"

            "That I came back?  Yes."

            "Overall, are you happy?"

            Joan blinked, surprised.  "I . . . yeah, I suppose.  I mean I have a good life.  What about you?"

            He shrugged.  "Haven't decided yet."

            "Adam," Joan started toward him, "is there something . . ." The first homeroom bell sounded, interrupting her.

            He started like he was coming out of a dream.  "I should go," he said as he headed for the door.

            "Adam . . . ."  She reached out toward him.  Something wasn't right with Adam and Joan didn't want to let him leave.

            He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her.  "Are you coming to the festival?"

            Joan sighed in resignation.  He'd changed the subject; he wasn't going to tell her now.  "With you and my mom in it?  Of course."

            "You were coming to see my work?"  Adam sounded surprised.

            "Of course.  Just because . . . things are awkward between us, doesn't mean . . . ."  Joan stopped.  She didn't know how to finish the sentence because she didn't know where they stood any more than Adam did.

            They stared at each other.  Both were acutely aware of the discomfort of Joan's uncompleted statement.  Neither knew what to do next.

            Adam broke the silence first.  "Well, I'll see you then, okay?"

            "Okay."

            Joan watched Adam leave.  Slowly, she sank into her chair.  Was it really this difficult to be in each other's presence or were they just making things harder than necessary?  She didn't know.  With a sigh, Joan began to shuffle through her files and organize her schedule. 

No, today was not going to be a good day.


	4. Festive Days and Corndogs

A/N: Warning—this chapter ends with a cliffie.  Sorry, but I needed it for the next chapter.  Anyway, thanks for your kind reviews.  I hope you like this chapter.  Grace is a bit OOC.  I'm having trouble "hearing" her.  So tell me if you think I should take out the corndog bit.  I don't know where it came from.  It just did.  Anyway, enjoy.

Disclaimer:  I think it's been well established that I don't own anything in association with the show.  Therefore, this is my last disclaimer.  Thank goodness.

            _"Bye, Mom," Joan called as she dashed down the stairs to the front door.  "I'm going over to . . . Adam!"  She had opened the door to find him standing on her porch.  He looked shell-shocked.  He didn't even respond to her calling his name.  _

_            "Mom," she called as she pulled Adam into the house.  "Something's wrong with Adam."  _

_            Helen rushed into the living room and looked Adam over.  "Adam, honey? Has something happened?"  The sound of her mother's soothing voice calmed Joan's mounting panic._

_            Smoothing back the fringe of bangs hanging in Adam's eyes, Helen peered into his face.  "Are you all right, honey?"          _

_            Adam looked at her but didn't seem to see her.  Helen and Joan exchanged worried glances._

_            "I got in."_

_            Again, Helen and Joan exchanged glances.  "You got in?" Helen asked._

_            He just nodded.  _

_            "Got in where?" Joan asked._

_            "NYU's graduate art program."_

_            Joan gave a startled, little chuckle.  "You got in?"_

_            Adam looked at Joan as if seeing her for the first time.  A stunned little smile tugged at his lips.  "I got in."_

_            With a whoop of excitement and relief, Joan threw her arms around Adam.  "Congratulations!"  Then she pulled back and punched his shoulder.  "You scared me.  I thought something horrible happened."_

_            Adam apologized as Helen pulled him into her arms and kissed his forehead.  "Congratulations, Adam.  I knew they'd accept you."_

_            "Thanks, Mrs. Girardi."  He shook his head like he still couldn't believe what had happened._

_            "What did your dad say when you told him?" Joan asked, eager to hear all the details._

_            "Actually, he read the letter to me."  Suddenly, dismay replaced the shock in Adam's expression.  "Oh, no.  Dad.  He's probably worried about me.  When he finished reading the letter, I just left.  I have to go home."  _

_            With that, Adam sprinted out of the house._

_            Joan and Helen stood for a moment, staring after him.  Finally, Joan turned to Helen, a huge grin lighting up her face.  "He got in," she whispered._

_            Helen wrapped an arm around her proud, elated daughter.  "There was never any doubt."_

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            "What would induce a person to shove a stick into a hot dog, dip it in cornbread batter, and fry it?"

            Joan stared at Grace, mystified by her question.  It was Saturday afternoon and they were strolling through the arts festival Helen had organized.  While Joan continued to gape, Grace turned the object in question as if the answer would reveal itself if she studied it from another angle.  "Was the corndog guy looking to make the already questionable hot dog even more confounding to people?  Was he bored?  Did he accidentally drop a hot dog in the batter, and being frugal, decided to fry it?  Maybe . . ."

            "If you don't want it," Joan interrupted, "why did you buy it?"

            "Who said I didn't want it?"  Grace took a hearty bite and pointed the corndog at Joan.  "You're missing the point, Girardi."

            "There's a point?"

            "The question isn't why am I eating it.  The question is how someone came up with the idea to put these two things together in the first place."  She took another bite.  "I mean, this isn't exactly a commonsense combination.  How did the corndog guy know that these two totally unlikely things would make a viable recipe?  It's not like it's as versatile as the original hot dog."

            "You've put a lot of thought into this," Joan said, amused by Grace's seriousness.

            But Grace shook her head.  "Not really.  Never thought about it until now, honestly.  Back to my point . . ."

            "Right.  I keep forgetting there's a point to all of this."

            Grace continued as if she hadn't been interrupted.  "A regular hot dog can accommodate any number of extras: chili, ketchup, mustard, onions, relish.  The list is endless.  Many of the possibilities are downright disgusting.  But a corndog can't take much more than ketchup and mustard, and even that is messy.  And separating the batter from the hot dog isn't a good idea, either. Without the other, something is missing.  And without the stick, the corndog would lose its advantage over the regular hot dog.  Altogether, the corndog is a perfect system."

            Joan waited for Grace to continue, fascinated despite herself.  Instead, her roommate finished eating.  "That's it?"

            "What?"

            "After all that, you're not going to explain the corndog's advantage over the hot dog?"

            Grace grinned at Joan.  "Sorry, I was hungry.  Where was I?"

            Joan pointed at her stick.  "'Altogether, the corndog is a perfect system.'"

            "Right.  Well . . ." Grace paused and thought for a minute.  "The hot dog needs some sort of embellishment which makes it messy.  A corndog, on the other hand, doesn't really _need_ anything else.  The corn batter provides plenty flavor.  But, without the stick, it would still be messy because the grease would get all over your hands.  The stick, while seemingly extraneous, makes it easy to handle and a simpler experience.  Unlike popsicles, which is an entirely different situation.  The corndog actually is a perfect system which may be what the corndog guy was going for.  I guess the same is true of shish kebobs, too."

            "Two things.  One, you need to get away from Ray.  The man has you totally overanalyzing.  And, two," Joan said, giving Grace a suspicious glance, "are you only talking about corndogs or are you trying to tell me something else?"

            "One," Grace said, "Ray is a pompous pain on my ass, but he isn't the reason I'm overanalyzing.  You're the one who convinced me to join the debate team in college.  And two, nice try, but I have nothing to say about you and Rove."

            "Why not?" Joan demanded.  After all, Grace had something to say about everything.

            "Because I tried the advice thing in high school and it didn't work."  Grace fixed Joan with a pointed stare.  "In fact, the last time I gave you advice, you completely ignored it."

            Joan gave her a conciliatory smile.  "But for a minute, I realized you were right."

            "Oh, look.  Rove's booth."  Grace left Joan standing in the thoroughfare.  

            Joan followed slowly, taking the opportunity to watch the two old friends.  Grace, though softer now than she had been in high school, still wasn't one for public displays of affection.  She just smiled up at Adam, obviously pleased to see him.  And he smiled back.  Joan found herself smiling at the sight of Adam's pleasure.   He'd seemed so unhappy the last time she saw him.  

            "Hey," she said when she reached them. 

            "Hey."  

            For a moment, no one said anything.  Yet the silence was more nostalgic than uncomfortable, like the three were remembering simpler times.  Joan broke the silence first.  She indicated the large number of people milling around his booth.  "Business is good, I see."

            "People love a native son who made in the big city," Grace said, making Adam blush.

            Joan smothered a laugh.  "I'm going to go browse.  Let you two catch up."  Adam opened his mouth to stop her but she just smiled and shook her head.  "It's been four years.  I'm curious to see what you've been up to in New York."

            Leaving Grace and Adam to talk, Joan stepped into the booth.  It was filled mostly with small figurines and sketches, some of which she recognized from their undergraduate days at the University of Maryland.  She bypassed the sketches and examined the sculptures instead.  While she wasn't the art expert her mother was, Joan could see the maturity in the new pieces.  For the first time, she didn't just find Adam's work beautiful.  The pieces spoke to her, called to her emotions. 

            One in particular drew her attention.  It was small and silver, circular.  It made her think of a controlled whirlwind.  Organized chaos like family.  Or love.  She reached out her hand to finger it.

            "I don't think you're supposed to touch the art."

            Joan's head jerked up to find a teenage girl in jeans and a t-shirt with a Degas ballerina on it staring at her.  "Right."

            "Of course," the girl continued, "art is supposed to touch you.  Adam's art finally has, hasn't it, Joan?"

            "God," Joan sighed.

            "Hi."  The Art Girl God waggled her fingers in a perky greeting.

            "What can I do for You?" Joan asked, simultaneously annoyed and amused by this God's effervescence. 

            Art Girl God sidled up to Joan's side.  "Actually, it's a repeat of an old assignment."

            When God didn't elaborate, Joan prodded, "Whenever you're ready."

            "Adam's return to Arcadia has sparked a lot of repressed emotions. . ."

            "Tell me about it," Joan muttered.

            "I want you to be open and listen to the people around you."

            "That's it?  Be open and listen."

            "Well," Art Girl God said, "that and be honest."

            Joan took a minute to process God's request.  Considering that she'd expected a bizarre, seemingly ill-timed assignment, she felt like she was getting off easy.  "That shouldn't be a problem."

            Art Girl God grinned.   "You'd be surprised."

            "What do you mean by that?" Joan called.  But Art Girl God had already made her way out of the booth.  Pouting at her thwarted attempt at an explanation, she returned her attention to the figure she'd admired.  She loved the piece; it made her feel peaceful.

            "You don't like it."

            Joan jumped at Adam's voice at her side.  She glanced at him, a tiny smile on her lips.  "Why do you think that?"

            "You were frowning."

            "I was . . ." Joan broke off with a giggle.  "No, it's not what you think.  I love it."

            Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow.  "Then why the frown?"  

            He held himself as if he expected her to strike him.  My opinion still matters to him, she realized.  The realization made her breath catch in her throat.  It also humbled her.  After all, she didn't really understand art at all.  "I was wondering if I could afford it."

            "Really?"

            "Yeah."

            They smiled at each other.  "It's yours."

            "What?  No.  I couldn't."

            Adam picked up the sculpture and held it out to Joan.  "I want you to have it."

            She was tempted, but she shook her head.  "Thank you.  But I can't."

            "Why not?"  He seemed disappointed.

            "Because I want to buy it," she announced.  "Besides, it doesn't seem right to take it when everyone else here has to pay."

            Adam laughed but didn't continue to push.  

            Joan turned toward him, regarding him with speculative eyes.  "Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

            "What?" 

            Joan smiled at his obvious surprise.  She was surprised herself; she hadn't intended to ask him that.  "Dinner.  With me.  Tonight, say, around eight o'clock.  I'll cook."

            "I'd like that," he answered.

            "Good," she said with a nod.  "I'll see you tonight.  Remember eight o'clock.  Don't be late."

            Adam watched Jane leave, a goofy smile on his face.  Dinner tonight—he was having dinner tonight with Jane.  He picked up the figurine and put it away with the rest of his personal stuff.  It pleased him that she liked the piece so much.  He called it _Jane_.  

            He glanced out at the thoroughfare and spotted her.  She and Grace were looking at some handmade jewelry when a man came up to them.  The man slid his hand down Jane's arm and presented her with a rose.  Then he leaned in and brushed a kiss on her lips.  

            Adam tore his gaze away, the smile withering on his lips.  His stomach roiled at the thought of Jane with another man.  She's not yours anymore, he reminded himself.  But the reminder didn't help.  He still wanted to throw up.  


	5. Let the Healing Begin

A/N:  Hello all.  Okay, here's chapter five.  Some notes first, though.  One—yes, the cliffie at the end of chapter four was mean (and kind of intentional.)  I do, however, promise to try to keep my sadistic tendencies to a minimum.  Two—I'm glad y'all liked the corndog bit (I swear all of that was off the top of my head.)  However, the whole analysis wasn't a result of too much spent with Luke because, well, he's been at MIT for like seven years.  So, well, you'll just have to wait until the sequel to see what becomes of him and Grace.  Three—I realize that most of you are dying to know who the mystery man is.  Unfortunately, this isn't the chapter where you find out.  Next chapter, I promise. Four—you guys are still fabulous for my ego.  I appreciate it more than you know.  And finally, five—there's a POV shift about halfway through.  I could finally hear Adam and stay in his POV.  And no, I'm not hearing fictitious voices, I swear.  Okay, so here it is.  Enjoy.

            _"Ow," Iris squeaked and tugged her hand out of Adam's.  She threw him an injured look as she massaged her hand.  "What did you do that for?"_

_            Adam tore his gaze away from the scene some thirty feet away.  "Sorry, Iris."_

_            "You know," she began, "if you'd just be honest, we'd all be happier."_

_            "What are you talking about?"  Adam glanced at her, confused. _

_            Iris glared back.  "Don't play dumb, A.  You know exactly what I'm talking about!"_

_            "Look, I'm sorry for squeezing your hand, Iris."  He took a breath and tried to hold on to his usually even temper.  "What more do you want form me?"_

_            Iris wilted at the question.  She leaned against her locker and stared at her feet rather than him.  "I can't do this anymore."_

_            "Do what?"_

_            "This."  She waved her hand in a vague, inclusive motion.  "I can't pretend that you feel for me what I feel for you.  It's not fair."_

_            Iris nodded toward the spot Adam had been staring at moments before.  Joan stood with her arms crossed defiantly over her stomach but her expression was soft, almost pleading.  The handsome young man she was talking to gave her a gentle smile._

_            Iris looked back at Adam.  He was watching Joan, a mixture of hurt, anger, and longing in his eyes.  "I know that look," she whispered to him, "that feeling."_

_            Shaken, Adam turned his attention back to his girlfriend.  _

_            "I feel it every time she's nearby."  Iris averted her gazed from the pained look in Adam's eyes, though, for once, his pain was because he'd realized he'd hurt her.  "You're one of the good ones . . . Adam.  But, unfortunately, I'm not what you want."_

_            "Iris . . ." Adam began.  He felt like he should apologize but he didn't know where to begin. _

_            She raised her hand to stop him before he could figure it out.  "It's okay, Adam.  You love her.  You can't help that.  Besides, it's not like she came along out of the blue to tear us apart.  Apparently, that was my role."_

_            "Don't say that."_

_            But Iris was on a roll.  It was like she needed to say everything before she lost her nerve.  "We'll still be friends, though.  There's still art class . . . taught by the other Girardi woman you're really fond of."  She laughed a sad little chuckle that tore at Adam's heart.  He'd never meant to hurt her._

_            "I'll be okay," she said with a reassuring smile.  Then she looked back at Joan and the mystery guy.  He was walking away and Joan was headed toward them.  She hesitated when she saw Iris and Adam watching her but continued toward them anyway._

_            "Hey," she said when she reached them.  When Adam just stared at her and Iris offered her a faint smile, Joan frowned.  "Did I interrupt something?"_

_            "No," Iris said sincerely before turning back to Adam.  He still seemed torn.  She stared into his eyes to ensure she had his attention.  "Good-bye, Adam.  I'll see you in art class."_

_            "What was that all about?" Joan asked as they watched Iris head toward homeroom._

_            Adam didn't answer.  He hadn't figured out the words yet.  So he took her books out of her arms instead.  "Let me walk you to class."_

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            The knock on her door startled Joan.  She glanced at the VCR's clock on her way to the door—10:07.  _That had better not be Adam_, she fumed.  A look through the peephole revealed that it was.  "Where have you been?" she demanded as she undid the locks and jerked the door open.  "I thought you weren't  . . . coming."  All of Joan's indignation seeped out of her when she saw Adam's face.  He looked awful—cold and exhausted.  

            "Sorry," he said, his voice as weary as he looked.  "I didn't mean to upset you."

            Joan shivered in the sudden icy breeze and pulled Adam inside.  A storm was brewing outside to which Adam appeared completely oblivious.  He looked truly miserable.  "I'm not upset," she lied.  "I was worried when you didn't call, though."

            Adam shrugged. Clad in the t-shirt and thin hoodie he'd had on this afternoon, he wasn't even dressed for dinner.  "I went for a walk and lost track of time."  

            "I know it's March and spring is in the air," Joan said as she pulled his hands out of his pockets and began to rub them between her own, "but it's not warm enough for you to go walking around with so little on."  His hands weren't warming up fast enough to satisfy Joan, so she began to blow on them.  "How long were you out there anyway?"

            Adam didn't answer.  The sight of Joan tending to his hands had rendered him speechless.

            "Adam?"

            He lifted his eyes to her concerned ones. 

            "How long were you out there?"

            "I don't know," he admitted with another shrug.  "Since the fair ended."

            Joan's jaw dropped.  That explained the messenger bag he had with him.  "You've been walking for over four hours?  No wonder you're freezing."  Grasping one of his hands firmly in hers, she pulled him toward the back of the apartment.

            "Uh, Jane?  What are you doing?"

            "You're taking a shower," she announced.

            He discreetly sniffed his shirt.  "I am?" Adam asked.  

            Joan stopped mid-stride and turned to face him.  "I can't warm you by rubbing alone."  She blushed when she realized how that sounded.  "Not that I'd try to," she stammered as she tried to ignore the laughter in Adam's eyes.  "Just do it for me."

            Adam smiled.  It pleased him that she wanted to take care of him so much despite the state of things between them.  "If it'll make you feel better."

            "It will."

            He edged around her into the bathroom.  

            "Oh, wait.  If you leave the door unlocked, I'll put your clothes in the dryer for you.  They're colder than you are."

            "I'll need something to wear in the meantime."

            Joan dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand on her way back to the living room.  "I have something you can wear.  Don't worry about it.  Towels are in the linen closet," she called over her shoulder. 

            Adam shut the door, his lightened mood from a moment ago gone.  So Jane and the guy from the park were close enough for him to have clothes here.  "What did you expect," he muttered as he got a towel and washcloth from the linen closet.  "It's not like you haven't dated other people, too."  He winced as he thought of the current woman in his life.  His relationship with Jane was nowhere near as convoluted as whatever he had with Tanya.  

            Rather than think about his complicated love life, Adam turned on the water and pulled off his clothes, which he folded and stacked on the toilet lid.  Then he stepped into the shower and let the hot, needling spray drive the cold from his body.  If only it would drive away the image of Jane and the mystery man, too. 

            Just then, he heard a knock at the door.  "It's me," she said and came in.  He closed his eyes against the wave of longing that hit him as he listened to her move.  This was why he'd come back to Arcadia, he realized.  Not because Helen had asked him to.  He was here for Jane.  

            "Okay, I'm out," she announced as she closed the door behind her.

            And she was with someone else.

            Even though Adam realized that he was being unreasonable, he wasn't able to get past the thought of Jane with another man.  The walk was supposed to help him adjust his attitude so he could have a platonic dinner with her.  Apparently, it hadn't worked.  Not only was the disappointment of knowing that Jane was involved still gnawing at him but he'd missed the dinner.  _Get over it.  She's not yours anymore_, he ruthlessly reminded himself for the hundredth time.  _She's not yours and you have no one to blame but yourself._

            Adam spent more time in the shower than was necessary.  He was stalling.  He wasn't looking forward to wearing Jane's boyfriend's clothes.  It wasn't until his fingers began to shrivel that he finally turned off the water.  Even then, he pulled the towel into the shower with him to avoid looking at the unwanted clothes.  When he couldn't put it off any longer, Adam pushed back the shower curtain and stepped out of the shower.  On the toilet lid was a white Maryland Terps t-shirt and a pair of red Maryland sweatpants.  Slowly, Adam dressed and made his way to the kitchen.

            Jane stood at the counter making one of her trademark sandwiches.  She never ceased to amaze him.  Just standing there in her mint green cotton pajamas with her hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.  He cleared his throat to get her attention. 

            She looked up at him; let her eyes travel over the length of him.  A wistful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before she turned her attention back to the sandwich.

            "I spent months looking for these," he told her.  "Do you have the shorts, too?"

            She nodded.  "And the pullover."

            He came into the kitchen and leaned against the counter beside her.  "Why?"  

            "I only meant to take the t-shirt."

            "Because you liked sleeping in it."

            She nodded.  "I took the shorts because I always wore them with the shirt.  Then I saw the sweatpants.  They were more mine than yours anyway, so I added them to the pile."

            He waited for her to continue, but she didn't.  "And the pullover?"

            Jane braced her hands on the counter.  "It was draped over your desk chair.  I picked it up and it smelled like you.  I still don't know why I put on, but I did.  It was like you were hugging me.  Before I knew it, I was sitting on your bed crying harder than I've ever cried in my life, the other day included.  When I finally stopped, I just picked up my pile and ran."  She lifted her face to his.  Her eyes shone with unshed tears and there was a tremulous smile on her lips as she plucked at the t-shirt.  "For a year, I slept in that shirt.  And then one day, I just put it away."

            She turned back to the sandwich.  Adam stared down at her, stricken by the image she'd painted for him.  At the time, he'd been too angry to think about what she must have been feeling.  After he'd calmed down, he'd been so ashamed that he'd tried to block her out of his thoughts.  "I'm sorry."

            "It's okay, Adam."  Jane sniffed and impatiently wiped away the tears on her cheeks.  She turned on the tea kettle on her way to the sink.  "It's not your fault."

            "It's not?"  Surely, she was kidding.

            But she gazed up at him with earnest, regret-filled eyes and shook her head.  "No, it's not.  I made the decision not to go.  Those were the consequences."

            "Bull."

            She blinked at him.  "What?"

            "You heard me."  Adam knew he shouldn't be angry at her for thinking that she was at fault, but he couldn't help himself.  "I asked you to come to New York with me at the last minute, knowing full well that whenever a new development in our relationship comes up it takes you weeks to make a decision, and this . . . rift between us is all your fault?"

            "Adam . . ." she started, obviously bewildered by his reaction.

            "No, Jane," he said.  "Not this time.  I knew for months that I wanted you to come with me and I _chose_ to wait until the last minute to ask you.  I'd hoped that if I didn't give you time to think about, you'd just come."  Adam moved to stand directly in front of her, his hands imprisoning her against the sink.  "I was wrong to put you in that position.  I wanted you with me so badly, I convinced myself that what I was doing was okay.  But it wasn't, Jane, and I don't want you blaming yourself for my mistakes."

            She looked like she wasn't sure what was happening.  "But . . ."

            Adam shook his head at her and grasped her chin so that she had no choice to look at him.  "No buts.  I'm a big boy, Jane.  You don't have to protect me.  You don't have to put me on a pedestal.  I'm just as fallible as you are."

            "I never said you weren't."

            "Ever since the incident at the art fair all those years ago," Jane cringed, "you've taken all the blame for anything bad that happens between us on yourself.  That's not fair to me and it definitely isn't fair to you."

            "What I did then wasn't your fault."

            "You tried to talk me out of dropping out and I wouldn't listen."

            "That doesn't make it right," Jane said stubbornly.

            Adam smiled in spite of himself.  "No, it doesn't.  But you were just sixteen.  Who doesn't make . . . ill-advised decisions at sixteen?  Like smashing your friend's artwork or deciding to drop out of school or dating another girl because the one you're in love with isn't ready to be with you?  We both did stupid things, Jane.  I just want you to stop taking responsibility for mine."

            Jane didn't say anything.  She just traced the logo over his heart while she thought over his words.  Finally, she raised her eyes to his.  "I did want to go with you."

            "I know."

            "I was just afraid that I'd lose my direction if I did."

            "Okay."

            She still looked like she wasn't certain she could trust his forgiveness.  "You're really not mad at me?"

            "I'm really not mad at you.  I have no reason to be."

            Jane sagged against the sink and laughed with joyous relief.

            "See?" he asked.  "Doesn't that feel better?"

            She nodded.  "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes swimming with tears.

            "You're welcome."


	6. Dinner and a Sleepover

A/N:  Yay!  I'm finally done with chapter six.  Sorry it took so long.  I got to page six before I realized I didn't like it that way, so I had to start over.  I'm happy with it now and I hope you will be, too, even though it's longer than the last chapter.  Again, thanks to everybody for reviewing.  You guys are great and I really appreciate your comments.  Here's hoping chapter seven comes out as quickly as chapter four did.  Enjoy.

            _A light, scratching sound pulled Joan out of her sleep.  Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.  Adam sat on the bed beside her, sketchpad in his lap and a pencil in his hand.  Joan smiled at him, though he didn't notice.  "What're you doing?"_

_            He glanced up at her and smiled back.  "Sketching you."_

_            "Again?"_

_            "Couldn't sleep."_

_            Pushing herself up into a sitting position, Joan rubbed the sleep from her eyes.  This insomnia had been plaguing Adam for the past three weeks and it worried her.  There were bags under his eyes and he was more oblivious than usual.  "What's going on with you, Adam?"_

_            "Nothing."  He gave a reassuring smile.  She didn't buy it for a second.  "Honest."_

_            He wasn't going to tell her.  No matter how close they got, he still seemed to prefer dealing with some things on his own.  She respected that; she still hadn't told him about her special _friendship _with God.  "You know that I'm here if you need me, right?"_

_            "Of course."  He resumed sketching._

_            "You know," she began as she lay back down and watched him draw, "if you keep up these late-night sketching sessions, I'm going to develop a really bad complex."_

_            "What are you talking about?"_

_            She laughed at the disbelief in his voice.  "Well, soon I'll be dreaming that I sleep with my mouth hanging open and drool like a St. Bernard.  And the snoring.  I'll dream that I snore like a trucker and you and your roommates are walking around the apartment with pillows plastered to your heads to block out the noise.  Of course, it won't work, so to make it stop, you'll smother me.  See, Adam, you're giving me nightmares."_

_            Laughing, Adam closed his sketchbook and stretched out beside Joan.  "That's just silly.  I'd never smother you.  You'd just wake outside."_

_            Joan hit his shoulder with a laugh of her own before snuggling against him.  He wrapped an arm around her and she sighed.  "Why do you watch me sleep, Adam?"_

_            "It calms me," he said, kissing her forehead.  "Helps me sleep."_

_            "I don't see how."_

_            "You will," he assured her.  "One day."_

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            _I'm really not mad at you.  I have no reason to be._ __

            Joan leaned against the sink and basked in the release Adam's words had given her.  She still thought she shared some of the blame for the sad state of their relationship.  But knowing that he didn't hold her past actions against her was like having a shroud removed from her heart.  Joan felt light-headed, giddy with Adam's easy forgiveness.  He was so amazing.  What had she ever done to deserve him?  "Did I tell you that I miss you?"

            "Yes."  Adam smiled and his tender gaze caressed her face.  Joan arched into the warmth of his presence like a flower in the sun.  

            "Jane?" he whispered, sending a shaft of pleasure through her.

            "Hmm?"

            "I miss you, too."

            The tea kettle whistled but neither Adam nor Joan moved.  He seemed content just to watch her.  Joan, on the other hand, couldn't remember how to breathe.  Suddenly, she was acutely aware of the intimacy of the situation, of the intensity of her feelings for this man.  The aroma of soap and warm male and well-aged love enveloped her and she swayed toward him.  Her eyes closed as she reveled in the heat emanating from him.  So close.  She'd missed this.  

            _But he's not yours now_.  

            The painful reminder opened Joan's eyes.  Lifting her sorrowful eyes to his beloved face, she let her gaze traced his features as if committing them to memory before taking in the rest of him.  The man standing before her wasn't the same one who'd left her.  She had no right to fall into his arms or do any of the other things that she'd once taken for granted with Adam.  So why did he have such power over her emotions?  Confused and upset, Joan cast about for something to distract her from her unhappy thoughts.  She saw the tea kettle and realized that the water was boiling.

            "Jane?"  Adam gazed down at her, troubled by the rapidly changing emotions crossing her face.  

            _Get a grip, Joan_, she scolded after a burst of satisfaction at Adam's concern.  Space—that's what she needed.  Some space between them so she could think and regroup.  Gently pushing him back, she cast an apologetic smile in his direction and stepped around him.  "I need to get that."  

            She turned off the kettle, then noticed the forgotten sandwich.  She picked it up and shoved it toward Adam.  "Take this."

            He just raised an eyebrow at her. 

            "You're probably hungry after your walk."

            He took the plate, but still looked at her with searching eyes.  

            Joan couldn't quite meet his eyes.  She didn't want to answer the questions in them.  Instead, she shooed him out to the dining room.  "I'll be there in a minute.  I'm just going to make some tea.  Would you like some tea?"

            "Whatever you're having is fine," he answered as he left the kitchen.

            She didn't miss the disappointment in his voice, the sudden distance.  _Great.  Scare him off, why don't you?_  Joan assembled a tray with two cups of mint tea in an attempt to settle her nerves.  When she was sure—reasonably so, anyway—that she could face him without doing anything truly inappropriate, she lifted the tray and joined him in the dining room.

            Adam hadn't touched his sandwich.  He seemed to be contemplating how to approach it.  Wordlessly, Joan handed him a knife.  He took it and they shared a smile.

            "I forgot to cut it in half."

            "Share?"

            Nodding, she unloaded the tea tray: two cups, sugar bowl, a saucer of lemon wedges.  She sat across from him and added sugar to her tea while Adam began his half of the sandwich.  They'd always shared any sandwich she made.  How had she forgotten that he'd never finished a whole one by himself?

            "So," Adam said after neither had said anything for a few minutes.

            "So."

            He opened his mouth, then closed it with a bemused air.  "I don't know what to say next."

            "Me either."

            Silence descended on them again.  Adam nudged the plate toward Joan before asking the question they were both avoiding.  "What do we do now?"

            Sighing, Joan played with her half of the sandwich before answering.  "I guess we begin again."

            "All right."  Adam squeezed lemon juice into his tea.  "Where do you want to start?"

            Joan bit into her sandwich and pondered the question.  There was so much to know.  They were both different people.  Where did she start?  "What had you walking in the cold for four hours?"

            "I, uh, I saw you . . . in the park."

            "I know," she said, frowning.

            "With that other guy."

            "What guy?"     

            "What guy?" he asked, surprised.  "The one who gave you a rose and kissed you.  That guy."    

            It still took a second for memory to kick in.  "Oh, you mean Eric."

            "Yeah, I guess so."

            "You saw that," Joan said, more to herself than to him.

            "I wasn't prep. . .I didn't know you had a boyfriend.  The walk was supposed to give me time to get used to the idea."

            "Eric isn't my boyfriend."

            "He isn't?"

            Smiling, she shook her head.  "We dated a little while ago but it didn't really work out."

            "Oh."  Adam sipped his tea.  "Why not?"

            Joan shrugged.  "He was nice enough, but something was missing.  He didn't have much imagination, for one thing."

            Adam glanced at her.  "He didn't have imagination?"

            "Not really.  I mean, come on, a kiss and a rose and I'm supposed to fall into his arms and give'us' one more try?  Anybody could do that."  Thoughtfully, Adam sipped his tea, but Joan saw the amusement in his eyes and couldn't help smiling herself.  "What about you?  Any groupies?"

            "No, no groupies.  But I think I have a girlfriend."

            Joan stared.  "You _think_ you have a girlfriend?"

            "It's complicated," he said with a shrug.

            "How complicated can it be?  Either she's your girlfriend or she's not."

            "Unchallenged.  Thing is, she hasn't told me which one she is yet."

            "Oh."  Not knowing what to say to that, Joan took another bite of her sandwich.  What did one say to that?  "What's the story?"

            "Well," he began, "Tanya—that's her name, by the way—and I were dating and things were going fine and then they weren't.  It was like she suddenly lost interest, which was okay.  I mean, that happens when you're dating.  But then she was interested again."

            "So, what's the problem?"

            "She keeps going back and forth.  One day, she wants to spend every second with me.  The next, she wants nothing to do with me.  It's confusing and very stressful."

            Smothering a smile, she said, "I can imagine so."

            "So, I told her that I couldn't take the back and forth thing anymore and that she needed to make a decision.  She got mad."

            Joan sipped her tea to hide the smile that she couldn't hold back any longer.  "She got mad?"

            Adam nodded.  "That was a month ago.  I haven't heard from her since."

            "So, it's safe to assume that she's not your girlfriend anymore."

            "Not with Tanya, it isn't.  She's unpredictable."

            "Why not just tell her that it's over?" Joan asked, quite reasonable she thought.

            "Because then I'd have to talk to her and I'm not ready to yet."

            Joan tried to stifle the giggle that rose in her throat, but it broke through anyway. 

            "It's not funny."

            "Sorry," she murmured as she tried, without much success, to squash her laughter.

            Adam glared at her then ruined the effect by laughing himself.  The quiet tension that had held them seemed to melt away.  When they finally gained control of themselves, they smiled in amiable silence until Adam yawned. 

            "Tired?"

            "Yeah."

            Joan gave him a shrewd look.  "Long day tired or haven't-been-sleeping-lately tired?"

            "Both," he admitted.  "I should probably be getting home."

            "You're not going anywhere, Adam Rove."

            "You keeping me?" he asked, his voice a strange mix of mischievousness and hope.

            She rolled her eyes at him despite the answering pang in her heart.  "Cute, but no.  Since you obviously didn't notice, it's storming outside, smart aleck."

            "It is?"  He really hadn't noticed.

            "Yes.  And you're not going out in it."

            Tilting his head to the side, Adam studied her for a moment.  "Were you always this bossy?" he asked jokingly.

            Joan gasped in mock outrage.  "Go to bed."

            "Where are the guest sheets?"

            "You won't need them."  She began gathering their dishes and loading them onto the tray.

            "Why not?" Adam asked as picked up the tray and headed toward the kitchen.  "Where am I sleeping?"

            "My room."

            He whipped around and gaped at her.  "Then where are you sleeping?"

            "The sofa," she answered.  She took the tray from him and dumped the leftover food.

            "I'm not putting you out of your own bed.  I'll take the sofa."

            "No, you'll take the bed."  When Adam started to protest, Joan crossed her arms over her stomach and glared at him.  "Don't argue with me, Adam.  I know you.  You're not sleeping and it's only going to get worse.  That sofa won't help you.  My bed, however, is very soft, very conducive to a good night's sleep."

            "Is that supposed to convince me?"

            "I've fallen asleep on that sofa plenty of times.  I'm used to it.  You aren't and I want you healthy, not exhausted.  You're taking the bed."

            Adam shook his head.  "No, I'm not."

            Joan advanced on him until they were standing toe to toes.  "I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

            They faced off.  Finally, Adam gave in.  "Fine."

            Joan smirked as he left the kitchen.  He'd never been able to stare her down.  She loaded their dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on before following Adam.  He was lying on the sofa, an arm slung over his eyes.  Leaning over him, she moved his arm and stared down at him.  "Not gonna work, buddy."

            "Jane," he said with a hint of exasperation in his tone. 

            "Up."  When he didn't move, she frowned at him.  "Now."

            "It doesn't matter where I sleep, yo."

            "It does to me," she said.  He continued to stare up at her, not moving.  "Do it for me?  Please?"

            With a sigh, he pushed off the sofa.  "Emotional blackmail, Jane?"

            She had the grace to look sheepish.  

            "We covered this.  You don't have to take care of me."

            "Well, old habits die hard.  Besides," she said as she turned and led the way to her bedroom, "I have some work to do.  I'd much rather do it in here than my room."

            Adam followed Joan's lead, knowing that she wasn't going to give up on her current notion.  Her attention flattered him.  It was nice knowing that he still mattered so much to her. 

            Having Adam in her bedroom was surreal for Joan.  Before, she'd spent plenty of nights at his apartment but he'd never slept over at hers.  The thought of Adam sleeping in her bed—something she hadn't really focused on when insisting he do so—warmed her skin.  "Do you need anything before I leave?"

            "I'm fine," he answered with a shake of his head.

            "Okay.  Well, good night, Adam."

            "Night, Jane."

            Joan left her room and closed the door behind her.  She made up the sofa and settled in to work.  Though she really wasn't interested in what she was doing, Joan forced herself to work until she could barely keep her eyes open.  After she put her work away, she decided to check on Adam.  She'd hate to give up her bed only for him to be sitting in it wide awake.  

            Quietly, Joan opened her bedroom door.  The light from the living room fell on Adam.  He lay facing her, sound asleep.  Smiling at the sight, Joan didn't realize she'd wandered into the room until she sat on the side of the bed.  She just stared at him.  He looked so vulnerable, so relaxed like a little boy.  His eyelashes swept rosy cheeks and his rosebud mouth was soft and slightly open.  

            She had never watched Adam sleep before—had always thought it was strange that he liked to watch her.  Now, as she brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, she understood.  It was peaceful, soothing, and strangely exhilarating to be able to watch him uninterrupted like this.  With a contented sigh, Joan laid down beside him without thinking.  She wanted to touch him, stroke his baby-soft skin like she used to.  She decided against it.  It was a line she wasn't ready to cross yet.  

            After a while, drowsiness tugged at her eyes again.  She fought it, wanting to enjoy this moment while she had the chance.  Eventually, sleep won.  Joan closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep with a tranquil smile on her lips.


	7. The Morning After

A/N: With tonight's episode, my little story has officially veered off into an alternate universe.  Having said that, I hope you enjoy this chapter.  They just keep getting longer and longer.  Just a warning, you're probably going to hate me for the ending of this one, but it doesn't end there and I hope to have chapter eight up soon.  As always, thanks for the reviews.  Enjoy.

Disclaimer: As you already know, I don't own anything in connection with Joan of Arcadia.  However, I also don't own the lyrics to the Kelly Clarkson song _Thankful_ that I used.  Just thought I'd note that.

            _The CD he'd found in his locker mocked him all afternoon.  Adam knew he should listen to it.  Jane had obviously gone through the trouble of making it and somehow putting it in his locker.  But he was afraid he wouldn't like what he heard. _

_            A week had passed since he'd told her that he and Iris were over.  She'd looked surprised, said "Oh," and that was it.  No questions, no conversation about what that meant for their relationship, no smiles or hints of happiness.  Nothing.  The biggest change his breakup created was Jane's sudden, inexplicable distance.  Even during study group, her mind seemed to be somewhere else, maybe on the girl she'd started tutoring the day before he'd told her the news._

_            It stood to reason that whatever was on the disc was not what he wanted to hear from Jane.  She probably just didn't want to tell him that she still wasn't ready—whatever that meant—in person.  So why put it on disc?  Why not just write him a letter?  A disc was so . . . permanent.  Maybe it wasn't bad, after all.  Whatever it said, why couldn't she have just told him face to face instead of causing him all of this anxiety?_

_            "Son?"_

_            Adam looked up to see his dad standing in the shed's doorway.  He tried to keep his expression blank but his dad saw his confusion anyway._

_            "Want to talk about it?"_

_            "Not really."_

_            Mr. Rove nodded.  "Okay.  I just came to tell you I'm leaving for work."_

_            "Okay, Dad."_

_            Mr. Rove turned to leave then stopped. "Whatever it is, Adam, go ahead and get it over with."_

_            "I'm scared."_

_            "I can tell.  But the longer you wait, the harder it'll be when you finally get around to it."  Mr. Rove smiled at his son.  "Whatever it is can't be worse than not knowing.  Have a good night, son.  Be good."_

_            Adam stared at the vacant doorway after his father left. Everything his dad had said was true.  He'd waited with his mom's suicide note until it had become so big in his mind he couldn't handle it.  He decided not to let the same thing happen with Jane's CD._

_            With courage he did not feel, Adam left the shed and headed for his bedroom.  He took the disc off of his desk, went downstairs and stood in front of the stereo.  A simple inscription "To Adam, From Jane" had been written neatly on the disc.  Taking a fortifying breath, Adam took the disc out of its case, put it in, cued it up and sat down on the sofa._

_            "Dear Adam," came Jane's unexpected voice, "I know you're probably upset with me.  For the past week, I've been sort of out of it.  After your breakup with Iris, I should have been there for you, not lost in my own thoughts.  For that, I'm truly sorry.  But I want you to know that I heard you and that you haven't been far from my mind since you told me the news.  It's practically all I've thought about, believe it or not._

_            "There's so much I want to say to you, but I don't know where to begin.  That's why I've made this CD.  Well, that and I wanted to give you something as special as all the things you've given me since we met.  I hope that after you've listened to it, you'll know, without a doubt, just how much you mean to me."_

_            For the next hour, Adam sat unmoving on the couch.  The CD was an eclectic mix of pop, R&B, rock, and country.  When the last song faded, Adam wiped the tears off his face, a little embarrassed that he'd cried at all.  Just as he was about to turn the stereo off, he heard Jane's voice again._

_            "Well, that's it.  That's how I see you, how I think of you, what I feel for you.  Actually, it's just the surface.  It's weird.  You've become so important to me in such a short amount of time.  But that's not what I want to talk about just now._

_            "Adam, I know I've been sending you mixed signals, telling you I'm not ready to couple only to get supremely jealous—yes, I admit it—when you moved on with Iris.  But I am now.  Ready, I mean.  I'm also willing to wait until you've gotten over her if that's what you need me to do.  I just want you to be happy.  I want to help you be happy.  I want . . . I want a lot of things.  Okay, now I'm babbling.  Sorry._

_            "Just know that I  . . . no, I'll save that for when I next see you.  In the meantime, I hope you liked the CD.  I meant every word of it.  Love, Jane."_

_            The CD stopped.  Adam sat in silence for a moment absorbing everything he'd just heard.  Then he got up, grabbed his keys and a jacket and headed for Jane's._

_            Jane answered his knock.  "Hey."_

_            "Hey."  Now that he was here, he couldn't think of a thing to say._

_            She looked as nervous as he felt.  "Do you want to come in?"_

_            Adam shook his head.  Jane stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her.  She wrapped her arms around her to ward off the chill in the air.  Adam shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her.  As he pulled the lapels together, he realized how close they were.  Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe, hard to think about anything but what it would be like to kiss Jane again._

_            Eager not to make a mistake, Adam looked a spot just over Jane's shoulder to distract himself.  "I listened to the CD."_

_            "And?"_

_            "I like it."_

_            "Good." _

_            "Jane?" he asked, shifting his gaze back to her face._

_            "Yes?"_

_            "What were you saving to say until you saw me next?"_

_            Jane blushed and looked down at his hands on the lapels._

_            "Jane?"_

_            She took a deep breath and looked in his eyes again.  "I wanted to say . . ." she stopped and rolled her eyes as if she were annoyed with herself.  "Let me try again.  Adam?"_

_            "Hmm?"_

_            "I love you."_

_            Instead of answering, Adam took Jane's face in his hands and kissed her.  She slid her hands up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving herself over to his kiss completely.  Adam pulled her closer and kissed her with all the wild joy her declaration had unleashed in him.  When they finally pulled back, he couldn't think of anything except the miracle of holding Jane in his arms.  She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed.  "I love you, Adam."_

_            Adam closed his eyes, savoring the sound of those words on her lips.  Pulling her a little closer, he stroked her back and smiled.  "I love you, too, Jane."_

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            Adam didn't want to wake up.  Last night was the first time he'd gotten a full night's sleep in six months.  It amazed him that, even after all these years, being near Jane helped him sleep.  Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and looked around the room.  Jane wasn't there.  He hadn't really expected her to be.  A glance at the clock told him that he shouldn't linger any longer.  He had to be at the park for the second and final day of the festival at ten.  If he didn't get up now, he wouldn't be able to spend any time with Jane before he had to leave.

            Pushing back the covers, Adam smiled at the memory of finding Jane in bed with him.  He'd dreamt that a cat was in bed with him, purring and staring at him like it wanted Adam to play with it.  The dream had been so vivid, he'd awakened.  He'd discovered Jane lying there, trembling slightly in the cool air.  She was snoring, the kittenish purr of a snore he'd always found so adorable.  Carefully, so he didn't wake her, Adam had pulled the sheets out from under her and covered them both.  She'd had come into his arms then, snuggling against him as if they'd never been apart.  Not questioning her presence, Adam had simply brushed a kiss on her forehead and held her to him, letting her warmth and softness lull him back to sleep.  

            Adam got up and stretched.  He tried to put the memory out of his mind, at least for the time being.  He'd never get ready in time if he didn't.  A quick look around the room revealed a neat stack of clothes on Jane's vanity chair.  His shoes and messenger bag were next to the door.  Taking his clothes and shoes, Adam went to the bathroom.  He didn't question the obviously new toothbrush laid out for him.  Showered and dressed, Adam made his way through the living room to the kitchen. 

            Jane stood at the stove with her back to the doorway, singing.  Her hips swayed in time with the song.  For a moment, Adam just enjoyed the sight of her.  Then the song penetrated his awareness.

                        "You know my thoughts/

                        Before I open up my mouth and try to speak/

                        You know my dreams/

                        Must be listening when I'm talking in my sleep/

                        I hope you know/

                        I love having you around me, don't you know?/

                        That I'm thankful for the blessings/

                        And the lessons that I learned with you by my side/

                        That I'm thankful/ 

                        For the love that you keep bringing in my life."

            Adam's mouth dropped in wonder.  It was one of the songs on the mixed CD Jane had made him just before they'd first gotten together.  He wondered if that was the CD she was listening to or the radio.  Considering it was about eight-thirty on a Sunday morning, he was fairly certain it was the CD.  "I can't believe you have that."

            Jane whipped around, her hand over her heart.  "You scared me."

            "Sorry."

            "How long have you been standing there?"

            "Long enough to know you're in a sentimental mood," he answered, pushing off the doorjamb and joining her at the stove.  He looked in the skillet she'd been tending.  She was making French toast; he loved her French toast.  "Really sentimental." 

            "Shut up," she said, a blush creeping up her neck.

            "Are there strawberries?"

            She turned even redder and Adam couldn't contain his laughter any longer.  "Thank you."

            "Don't thank me yet," she said, slightly mollified.  "I haven't cut them up."

            "Then let me."  He got the fruit out of the refrigerator and began slicing.  Jane sang along with the music and Adam hummed with her as they worked.  Soon, Jane had a plateful of French toast and a plate of bacon ready and Adam had a pile of halved strawberries.  She fixed their plates while he poured the juice.  Silently, they took their dishes to the dining room table.

            "We make a good team," Jane said as they sat. 

            "We always did."

            They began to eat in silence.  Adam thought about the Saturday mornings in college when Jane would surprise him and his roommates with breakfast.  Grace would come over.  Sean would hit on her; Grace gave him the death stare she'd perfected with Luke except she really meant it with Sean.  Mike would tell stories about his theatre classes. They'd all laugh and talk and unwind after a long week of school.  This breakfast was nothing like those.

            "This is uncomfortable," Jane said.

            "Unchallenged."

            "So say something."

            Adam thought for a minute before hitting on something to talk about.  "Where do you want me to leave the clothes you lent me?"

            "I didn't lend them to you," Jane said with a smile.  "They're yours."

            "Not anymore."

            Jane rolled her eyes.  "Fine, leave them in my room."

            They lapsed into silence again.  Just when Adam was beginning to wonder about the prolonged awkwardness between them, the front door opened.  Grace strolled in and said, "Morning, Girardi, Rove," before disappearing into her bedroom.  

            Joan and Adam glanced at each other.  "Did you tell her I was here?" he asked, perplexed.

            "No," Joan answered, vehemently shaking her head.  "You were just coming over for dinner, that's it."

            "Then, why . . ."

            Adam's question was cut off by Grace's reappearance.  Watching the pair with suspicious eyes, she slowly came out of her room.  "Rove?"

            "Yeah?"  He felt like a rabbit staring down the barrel of a hunter's rifle.

            "What are you doing here at nine in the morning?"

            "Um," Adam said, forcing himself to look only at Grace, "I missed dinner, so I'm having breakfast with Jane instead."

            At least that was mostly true.  

            Grace just looked at the two of them for a long moment.  Then she nodded.  "Uh-huh.  In that case, thanks a lot, Rove."

            "What did I do?"

            "I left the comfort of my home to go to the library . . ."

            "You were going there anyway," Joan said.

            Grace ignored the interruption.  "So that you and lover girl here could have a nice, reconciliatory dinner and for what?  You miss it!"

            "Sorry," Adam murmured.

            "Not only that, the library closes early on Saturday, which I forgot.  So to give you two some privacy, I end up at the rabbi's house."

            "Oh."   

            "Then the storm came."

            Joan cast a sympathetic glance in Grace's direction.  "This just keeps getting worse."

            "Yeah.  So I was stuck there overnight."  Grace glared pointedly at Adam.  "Lucky for you, the rabbi and I are getting along now."

            Confused, Adam said, "Then what's the big deal?"

            By this time, Grace had wandered into the kitchen.  "He wanted me to go to the synagogue this morning. "

            "I'm really sorry, Grace."

            "I'll get over it."  She pointed at the leftover breakfast on the counter.  "Hey, Girardi, you mind?"

            Joan waved her permission.  "Help yourself."

            "Thanks.  By the way," Grace said as she fixed herself a plate.  "What _are_ you listening to?"

            Nora Jones's _The Nearness of You_ had just gone off and Faith Hill's _This Kiss_ was playing.

            "Nothing."  Joan got up and turned off the stereo.

            Realization made Grace's eyes sparkle.  "That's the infamous 'Joan loves Adam' CD, isn't it?"  
            "It's hardly infamous," Joan grumbled as she sat down again, making Adam grin.

            Grace grinned delightedly.  "Man, you two were some pretty sappy teenagers."

            "We were not," Adam protested, laughing.

            "And, even if we were," Joan said, coloring, "we were in love.  We were supposed to be sappy."

            "Whatever you have to tell yourself," Grace said. 

            Joan looked down at her toast and sighed, her face beet red.  Adam laughed.  "So, Grace, what did you need from the library last night?"

            "Ray's being an ass and wants to talk about what a wonderful job the mayor's doing."  Grace grimaced at her toast and pushed the plate away.  "Don't get me started."

            "Really," Joan said when Adam opened his mouth to ask why.  "Don't."

            "Jackass."

            Adam and Joan looked at each other and laughed.  Grace rolled her eyes.  After they got Grace off the subject of her co-worker, the conversation flowed smoothly.  Adam was so comfortable, he nearly forgot about the festival.  A random glance at his watch revealed that it was almost nine-twenty.  "I have to go," he announced, the disappointment clear in his voice.

            Joan watched him go down the hall to the bathroom.  The discomfort between them had just gone away—with Grace's help, true, but still—and now he was leaving.  

            "Hey, Girardi?"

            "Hmm?"

            "What really happened last night?"

            Puzzled, Joan turned her attention to Grace.  "I don't know what you're talking about."  
            Grace gave Joan a this-is-me look.  "Rove's still wearing the clothes he had on at the festival."

            Joan's jaw dropped and her mind went blank.  Had she really thought Grace wouldn't notice?  She was still trying to think of a response when Adam came back into the living room.  As if they had agreed to keep the conversation between the two of them, Joan and Grace stood and met Adam at the door.

            "I'm sorry I have to leave."

            Joan waved the apology away.  "You can't help it."

            "When are you leaving, Rove?"  Adam and Joan looked at Grace as if she'd just kicked him out.  "For New York.  When do you leave for New York?"

            "Tomorrow."  Adam noticed Joan's stricken expression.  "I only intended to stay for the fair."

            "Oh."  Joan felt like she'd just being punched in the stomach.  This wasn't "see you later," this was good-bye.  It didn't seem real that he should be leaving so soon.  Pasting a smile on her face, she raised hopefully neutral eyes to his face.  "Well, I guess that means this is good-bye."

            "Yeah, I guess so."

            Neither moved; neither wanted to acknowledge that they were separating again.  Not after the last twenty-four hours.  Grace, however, didn't share their problem.  In a thoroughly uncharacteristic move, she hugged Adam, startling both Adam and Joan out of their stupor.  "Have a good trip back, okay?"

            "Yeah, sure," Adam said.  "Okay."

            Smiling at his astonishment, Grace went to her bedroom.  

            "What was that?"  Adam asked, looking after Grace.

            "I don't know."  Joan was confused as Adam.  Apparently, displays of affection were okay with Grace as long as they weren't public.  She looked up at him and reality set in once more.  Adam was leaving.  Again.  "So."

            "So."

            "You have to go."  She peeked at him as if hoping the answer had changed.

            "Yeah.  I'll see you, Jane."

            "Will you?"

            Adam looked at her for the first time since Grace's exit.  "I'll come visit.  I promise."

            "I'll miss you."

            "I'll miss you, too."

            After a moment's uncertainty, Joan hugged him.  She closed her eyes briefly against the painful thought of having to let him go.  "Good-bye, Adam."

            "See you, Jane."  He opened the door and left.

            Joan stared at the front door and tried to hold back the tears that threatened to come.  How many times was she going to have to do that?

            "You okay?"

            She turned to find Grace leaning in her doorway.  

            "I know that couldn't have been easy."

            With a sniff and a shrug, Joan smiled at Grace.  For all her tough exterior, she was always there when Joan needed her.  "Very little is ever easy with me and Adam"

            Grace laughed.  "Truer words were never spoken."

            "Do you mind if we talk later?  I kind of want to be alone right now."

            "You know where to find me."

            Joan waited until Grace closed her door then cleaned the kitchen.  It was mindless work, but it gave her something to do.  When she finished, she took her CD out of the stereo and went to her bedroom.  The first thing she saw was the pile of clothes.  Adam had made up her bed and stacked the clothes on the end of it.  She took the clothes and CD and put them away in one of the "Adam" boxes in her closet.  There were three such boxes, all filled with paraphernalia of their six-year relationship.  

            Resisting the urge to go through each box, she closed the closet door firmly behind her.  She would not torture herself with memories—at least, not today.  She was on her way to her bed when she noticed the box on her vanity.  Curious, she changed direction and opened the box. 

            Inside was the figurine she'd admired in Adam's booth the day before.  Fighting back the seemingly ever-present tears, Joan carefully removed it from the box.  A note sat at the bottom of the package.  She pulled it out and read it.

                        Dear Jane,

                                    I know you said you wanted to buy this, but I can't 

                        sell it to you.  An artist doesn't sell his work to his muse.  So 

                        accept this token of my continued admiration for you.  I won't 

                        take 'no' for an answer.

                                                                                                Love,

                                                                                                Adam

            Joan folded the letter and gently set it down beside the statuette.  Then she put her head down on the vanity and cried her heart out.  


	8. Boomerang

A/N:  Okay, chapter eight.  You know, I really like writing these memories.  It's more fun than writing the actual story.  But that's just me.  Anyway, thanks for the reviews.  They really are great motivators.  I understand why writers blackmail us readers for them.  They make me smile.  And, yes, I like long reviews.  It seems my chapters are only getting longer, so I'm glad so many of you like long chapters.  

            Now, this is an unplanned chapter.  I kind of bungled chapter seven, so let me know what you think, especially about the end of the memory.  I'm not sure it flows right.  Okay, I know, blah, blah, blah.  On with the story.

_            "Incoming," Grace said as she closed her locker._

_            Frowning, Joan followed suit and turned to glance in the direction Grace was looking in.  Adam was making his way through a throng of students.  Pleasure filled Joan at the sight of him.  They'd been together for ten months now and, while everything hadn't been perfect, it came pretty darn close._

_            "I'm going to class," Grace announced._

_            Joan stared at her friend.  "If you go now, you'll be on time."_

_            Grace looked like she was stuck between a rock and a hard place.  "It's either that or watch you and Rove suck face.  Again.  I can only take so much.  Later, Girardi."_

_            Amused, Joan watched Grace get lost in the crowd.  Were she and Adam that bad?  A moment's thought made Joan smile.  Yeah, they were._

_            "Hey, Jane."_

_            "Hey," she replied.  Her lingering smile faded when she saw the frown on his face. "What's wrong?"_

_            "Nothing."  Adam brushed a quick kiss on her lips before taking her hand and leading her away from the lockers.  "I'm fine."_

_            "Then why the frown?"_

_            "Jane, I'm fine.  Really," he said with a smile.  It didn't quite reach his eyes._

_            Joan stopped in the middle of the hall.  "Adam, you don't lie well.  You can't even sugarcoat things.  Tell me what's wrong."_

_            Adam took Joan's hands in his hands and gave her a more genuine smile.  "Nothing's wrong.  I just have some things on my mind, that's all."_

_            "You're sure?"  She wasn't quite ready to believe him yet._

_            He nodded.  "We don't have much time.  Class starts in a couple of minutes.  I wanted to ask if you could come over to my house after school."_

_            "Uh," Joan mentally checked her to-do list, "yeah.  I think my schedule's clear."_

_            "Good."  Adam brushed another kiss on her mouth.  "See you after school."_

_            Joan worried about Adam for the rest of the day.  By the time the final bell rang, she was a mass of nerves despite his reassurances.  She rushed to her locker and exchanged her books._

_            "You said yourself that Adam can't lie," a voice said at Joan's elbow.  "So why are you so agitated?"_

_            She looked up into the pale face of Goth God.  "He didn't seem fine," she sighed._

_            "Trust him, Joan."_

_            "I do."_

_            "Then stop worrying.  That's not what he needs from you right now anyway."  _

_            "What does he need?"  The anxiety she'd felt all day was beginning to lessen but not by much._

_            Goth God merely raised an eyebrow.  "The same thing he's always needed: your support."  Goth God turned and walked away before Joan could say anything. _

_            Heaving a sigh of frustration, Joan finished getting her books.  Really, why must God always be so cryptic?  _

_            The hand on the small of her back startled her.  She whirled around to find Adam looking at her with a concerned smile on his face.  "You okay?"_

_            "Yeah."_

_            "You didn't forget, did you?  About coming over to my house?"_

_            "No."  Joan pressed a soft kiss to his lips.  "I definitely haven't forgotten."_

_            The uneasiness receded from his eyes and he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.  "Ready?"_

_            As I'll ever be, she thought.  "Let's go."_

_            Silence reigned on the walk to Adam's.  Joan knew that whatever this was all about, it wasn't a bad thing.  Goth God had effectively laid that concern to rest.  But she had a persistent fear that whatever it was about was going to change things._

_            They were almost at the house when the suspense snapped the last of Joan's reserve.  "Where was Grace after school, do you know?" she asked, seizing on the first thing that came to mind._

_            "She had a meeting with the guidance counselor, I think."_

_            "Again?" Joan asked as they climbed the front steps to the porch.  It took a moment for her to realize that Adam wasn't leading her around to his shed.  "Wait."_

_            Adam looked at her expectantly._

_            "The reason you wanted me to come over," she started, "it's in the house?"_

_            "Yeah."  He unlocked the front door.  "Come on."_

_            Joan followed Adam through the house up to his room, the sheer strangeness of being in Adam's house wildly forcing her anxiety up.  She lingered by his bedroom door.  Had he led her here on any other occasion, Joan knew that, while she'd still be a little apprehensive, she would have also felt some excitement instead of a nearly overwhelming urge to run.  Sex, though it hadn't come up with them, suddenly seemed infinitely preferable to whatever Adam wanted to talk about.  _Stop being an idiot_, she told herself as Adam knelt by his bed and pulled out a box.  _Be supportive.  That's what you're here to do.

_            Adam sat on the bed and dumped the box's contents before looking up at Joan.  Knowing that the moment she'd been dreading had finally come, Joan crossed the room and sat next to Adam.  "What's all this?" she asked without looking at it._

_            "Responses to my college applications."_

_            Joan blinked; that was the last thing she had expected him to say.  College responses?  That's what this was all about?  She heaved a sigh of relief and turned her attention to the envelopes littering his bed.  The smile that had begun just seconds before disappeared as she looked at the thick packets.  These were acceptance letters.  _

_            Dazed by the sheer number of them, Joan began to read the names: Rhode Island School of Design, Maryland Institute College of Art, Pratt Institute School of Art and Design, Atlanta College of Art, New York University, UCLA.  There were a few more, including one from the __University__ of __Maryland__, where she intended to go.  "Adam," she whispered._

_            "That's all of them," he said quietly.  "All the schools I applied to.  I've been accepted to all of them."_

_            Feeling like she had lost all capacity for speech, Joan just stared at him._

_            "With full scholarships to most," Adam whispered into the silence._

_            "Wow," Joan murmured.  She felt like screaming.  She didn't know if she could do this—support the possibility of Adam leaving her.  It was all she could do not to pick up the __University__ of __Maryland__ packet, shove it in his hands, and say, "Go here."  _

_            Adam shifted beside her.  "I didn't expect all of them to accept me."_

_            Joan nodded.  She was still having a problem finding words._

_            "I don't know what to do." _

_            It was the utterly lost tone of Adam's voice that broke through Joan's stupor.  Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she turned to Adam.  "Congratulations."_

_            He glanced at her as if afraid she hadn't quite grasped the situation.  "Jane, I . . . look at all this."_

_            "I see it.  It's amazing."_

_            "No, it's not."  Adam pushed off the bed and became to pace.  He never paced.  "This is a nightmare.  I didn't even want to go to college."_

_            "Then why'd you apply to so many?"_

_            "Because," he huffed, "your mom made some really good pro-college arguments."_

_            She slipped off the bed and stood in front of him.  "So you applied to please my mom.  Now, you have to make a decision."_

_            "I don't want to."_

_            It hurt her heart to see the anguish in Adam's eyes.  "Is it because you still don't want to go to college or because so many accepted you or . . . is it because of us?"_

_            Adam shrugged and looked around the room, anywhere but at Joan.  "I don't know."_

_            Joan took Adam's hand and led him back to the bed.  She sat on the other side of him.  "I can't make this decision for you."_

_            "I know."_

_            "But," she said as she turned to face him, "I can try to make it a little easier for you."_

_            Adam gave a humorless chuckle.  "How?"_

_            "By telling you that you don't have to worry about us."  She waited until he raised his eyes to hers then smiled.  "This decision, it has nothing to do with us."_

_            "Yes, it does, Jane."_

_            "No," she said, her smile still painfully in place, "it doesn't.  It's all about you.  Your dreams, your passion, your future."_

_            Adam turned toward her and took her hands in his.  "You're a part of that future."_

_            "I hope so.  I want to be.  But, Adam, you have an incredible opportunity here and I don't want to be the reason that you don't take advantage of it.  So, whatever you decide, don't factor me into the equation."_

_            "How can I do that, Jane?" he pleaded, his voice stricken.  "You're my girlfriend.  I love you.  I don't want to lose you."_

_            "You will never lose me, Adam," Joan promised, absolute certainty in her words.  "God gave us to each other.  No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."_

_            "But, what if . . ."_

_            "No," she interrupted, shaking her head.  "Life is full of what ifs.  Every decision is cluttered with them.  I don't know what's going to happen, but you and I are meant for each other.  And, if we're separated, heaven forbid, we _will_ find our way back to each other.  I believe that."_

_            Adam flopped back on his pillows and closed his eyes.  "This is so hard."_

_            "Yeah," Joan agreed, flopping on the pillows, too.  "It pretty much sucks."_

_            "Hard."_

_            "Very hard."_

_            He turned to look at her.  "I don't want to leave you."_

_            Joan turned to look back at him.  He was so close, she could count his eyelashes.  She smiled.  "You may have to."_

_            "Let's not talk about this anymore," he sighed._

_            "Agreed." _

_            They stared at each other for a long moment, lost in their own thoughts.  Then Joan leaned forward and kissed him.  She'd only meant for it to be a chaste peck, but before she could pull back, it deepened.  Cupping his cheek, she tugged him closer.  He came willingly, his hand sliding up her side.  His hand brushed the exposed skin about her jeans, making her gasp.  She pulled back and stared at him, surprised by the intensity of her reaction._

_            Adam's gaze dropped to her lips and he swallowed.  He seemed to struggle with something before he finally sat up.  "I should probably take you home," he said, smiling down at her despite the strained look in his eye._

_            "You're probably right."  She sat up, too, running shaky hands through her hair and over her clothes.  _

_            The drive to Joan's house was as quiet as the walk to Adam's.  She spent the time thinking about how close they'd come to crossing the line.  It felt really close.  _

_            He pulled up to her house and parked.  "Thank you."_

_            She nodded.  She knew he was talking about their conversation.  "You're welcome.  Thank _you_."_

_            "For what?"_

_            "Stopping."_

_            Adam focused on the steering wheel.  "It's not the right time."_

_            "No, it isn't."_

_            He got out of the truck then and came around to her side to open the door.  For a moment, they both tried to decide if they should kiss or hug or just not touch each other.  In the end, they came to the same, silent conclusion: it was too soon for physical contact.  With a final smile, Joan picked up her bookbag and went up the walk with Adam.  "See you in school tomorrow?"_

_            "Yeah."_

_            "Good night, Adam."_

_            "Night, Jane."_

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            Joan opened her eyes and groaned.  Her head ached, her mouth tasted like rancid milk, and her stomach churned at the thought of the taste in her mouth.  Pressing her fists to her eyes, she tried to figure out why she felt like she had the flu of the century.

            "You look awful."

            Cautiously peeking over her fists, Joan saw Grace standing in her doorway.  She had a box of Kleenex, a glass of water, a pack of crackers and a bottle of aspirin in her hands.   Joan decided to overlook Grace's unflattering assessment of her looks and held her hands out for the aspirin and water.  "Please?"

            Grace entered the room and held out the pack of crackers.  "You should eat something first."

            Joan obediently ate the unwanted crackers, then took the two aspirin Grace gave her.  With a sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair before turning pitiful eyes to her roommate.  "What time is it?"

            "Three," Grace answered, leaning against the wall next to the vanity.  

            "I cried myself to sleep?" Joan asked, incredulous.  "No wonder I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

            "You look it, too."

            "Thanks."  She glanced at herself in the mirror and realized Grace was right.  She looked awful.  Her eyes and nose were red and puffy, her face splotchy, her hair shot off in every direction.  She looked hollow like she was in mourning.

            Well, wasn't she? she thought.  The man she'd loved for ten years had left her for the second time.  She shouldn't look like she could do cartwheels right now.  

            Joan flopped back in her chair and examined Grace.  

            "What?" Grace asked, shifting uncomfortably under Joan's gaze.

            Curious about the unusual reaction and thankful for the distraction, Joan said, "I was wondering what's up with you?"

            Eyes narrowed, Grace jutted her chin forward slightly.  "What are you talking about?"

            "You have to admit you've been acting kind of strange lately.  Hugging Adam, taking care of me."  Joan leaned toward her roommate, shocked that she shrank back from her.  Oh, something was definitely out of whack in Graceland.  "What's with this new affectionate, supportive Grace?"

            "Nothing."

            She sounded like Grace, but the shadows in her eyes said she was lying.  Grace rarely lied to her.  When she did, Joan knew that whatever Grace was hiding was usually pretty important to her.  She also knew that she wasn't going to find out what was bothering her friend until she was ready to confide in her.  Sighing, Joan decided to let Grace off the hook.  "Whatever you say."

            "Good," she said, straightening up on the wall.  "Are you ready to talk?"

            Joan fought back a devilish grin.  She couldn't resist one last jab.  "I'm ready when you are," she said, pointedly.  At Grace's equally pointed look, Joan laughed and said, "I think I'll go take a shower.  I feel pretty gross right now."

            "Sounds like a plan."  Grace pushed off the wall and left the room.

            An hour later, Joan emerged showered and dressed, no longer looking like a train wreck.  Unfortunately, she found herself wandering aimlessly around the apartment.  She had no plans for the day and she'd gone through most of her work files last night.  The thought of finishing didn't appeal to her now.  Eventually, Grace stopped her drifting.  "Get out."

            "Excuse me."  

            "You heard me," Grace said without looking up from the computer.  "Get out.  Go do something before I'm forced to hurt you in self-defense."

            "What are you talking about?"

            "You're driving me crazy with the pacing and the moping.  If you don't stop on your own, which I'm sure you won't, I'll have to hurt you.  I don't want to pay the rent by myself.  Now get out."

            Speechless yet amused, Joan grabbed a coat and left the apartment.  Since she didn't need to go anywhere in particular, she decided to leave her car and walk for a bit.  Trusting her feet to carry her safely along, she let her thoughts wander.  Most of them were about Adam and their past.  The first time he'd left, she'd been completely lost.  He had been such an enormous part of her life that she had difficulty getting through the day without talking to him or seeing him.  Now, her emotions were all stirred up and there was nothing to do but wait for them to settle down again.  

            "They will, you know?"

            "What?"  Joan noticed a lovely woman walking beside her.  

            The woman smiled reassuringly at Joan.  "Your emotions.  They'll settle down.  Eventually."

            God.  Joan took in this guise's long, glossy brown curls, her elegant lines, the truly beautiful face.  "You went all out for this one, didn't you?"

            "Every now and again, I like to feel pretty."

            Jaw dropped, Joan gaped at her heavenly companion before bursting into laughter.  

            "Feel better?"

            Joan, struggling to rein in her laughter, nodded.  When she succeeded, she said, "Yes, I do.  Thank you."

            "You're welcome, Joan."

            They continued walking in silence, each preoccupied with her own thoughts.  Finally, Joan turned to Lovely Woman God and said, "While I appreciate the company, I'm sure You have much better things to do than go for a walk with me."

            Lovely Woman God didn't respond, just continued walking alongside Joan, Her slim, shapely hands tucked into the pockets of Her white linen slacks.  Knowing that God wasn't one to be rushed, Joan fell silent again and waited for whatever was coming.  

            "It won't be easy."

            Joan nodded as if she knew what that referred to.  "What is?"

            "You'll have to deal with a lot of emotions: yours, his, your families' and friends'."

            Peeking at God out of the corner of her eye, Joan asked, "Are You talking about Adam and me?  Are You just going to get more cryptic as I get older?  Because the enigmatic message thing doesn't make this arrangement any better."

            Lovely Woman God stopped and turned to Joan.  "You've grown a lot in the last ten years.  Matured beautifully.  But you haven't yet learned how to take care of yourself and your own needs."

            "This is about me taking care of myself?" she asked, confused.  She thought she led a pretty healthy, active life.  What more was she supposed to do for herself?

            "You take care of your body, but what about the rest of you?  Your heart, your soul.  They require maintenance, too."

            "So, what do You suggest?" Joan asked.  May as well cut to the chase.

            Lovely Woman God tucked a lock of hair behind Joan's ear, a rare gesture which stunned Joan.  "Listen to your instincts, your heart.  Learn to trust them.  Trust yourself.  Believe Me, it'll make your life a lot easier."  With that, She walked away.  

            Joan didn't know how long she stood looking after Her, but she slowly realized that the sun was going down.  Turning God's words over in her mind, Joan started home.

            She was almost home when she noticed him.  A man stood in front of her apartment, his fist half-raised like he couldn't decide whether to knock or just leave.  Curious, Joan squinted, trying to see him more clearly.  "Adam?" she asked.

            He turned toward her, noticeably startled.  "Jane."

            "What are you doing here?"  She stopped about ten feet away from him as if she was afraid to get too close.  "I thought you'd be home packing or something."

            "I travel light."

            "What about your art?"

            "Packed already."

            "Oh."  Joan crossed her arms over her stomach to keep from fidgeting.  "So, what are you doing here?"

            Adam stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged.  "I didn't like how we left things this morning."

            Joan didn't respond though she knew what he meant.  The state of their relationship was still open to interpretation. 

            "Where do we stand, Jane?"

            "Has anything changed between this morning and now?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "I mean nothing's changed.  Your life is in New York, mine is here.  You have a career and an apartment, friends, a reputation . . . a girlfriend, we think.  I have all those things here.  Well, not the girlfriend, but everything else."  She paused, trying to organize the thoughts swirling in her head.  "I guess . . . I guess we're just two old friends."

            "Who love each other."  He took a cautious step toward her.  

            Joan held herself a little tighter.  "We love who we used to be, not who we are now."

            "We haven't changed that much."

            "But we have changed," she said, looking at her front door instead of at him.

            "We're still essentially the same people, Jane," Adam said, his rising frustration obvious in his voice.  "Why are you so determined to deny that?  Do you . . . do you not care for me anymore?"

            Her eyes jerked to his face.  "No, that's not it, at all."

            "Then what?"  

            Joan floundered for an answer, but couldn't pinpoint the reason she was trying to push him away.  All she really wanted to do was beg him to stay.

            "You once told me," Adam started as he closed the distance between them, "I'd never lose you.  That God gave us to each other and that, no matter what happened, you'd always be here for me.  Do you remember that?"

            "Yes."

            "Do you remember what else you said?"

            Blinking away the tears that had become her constant companion since Adam's arrival, she nodded.  "I said we were meant for each other."

            "What else?" he asked as he wiped away a wayward tear.

            "That, even if we were separated," Joan's voice broke and she swallowed before continuing, "we'd find our way back to each other."

            "Jane," Adam whispered, cupping her face in his hands, "that's all I'm suggesting.  That we find our way back to each other."

            "How?"

            He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.  She laid her head on his shoulder and felt her body relax into his.  "We start with something simple.  Like a movie or dinner or a walk.  Then we do something else."

            Joan tipped her head back and looked up at him.  She studiously ignored the fact that his lips were inches away from hers.  "How do we do that when you're going home tomorrow?"

            "That shouldn't be a problem," he assured her.  "I'm not going back just yet."

            "But this morning . . ." Joan said, pulling back.

            "This morning I didn't realize how much I wanted to stay."

            "Why?"

            Adam smiled at her.  "Do you really have to ask?"

            Wordlessly, Joan returned Adam's smile with a tremulous one of her own.  Then she laid her head on his shoulder again and closed her eyes.  "How long?"

            "I don't know.  I'll have to go back eventually, but right now, this is where I need to be."

            Joan nodded, glad that she didn't have to be strong and let go of him so soon.  A part of her knew that his staying would make it be even harder to let go.  But right now, all that mattered was his presence and his cheek against her temple, his thumbs gently caressing her back, their slight swaying motion.  All that mattered was this moment.

A/N:  Yes, more author's notes.  Two things.  One, this story has just gotten interactive.  In your reviews, let me know if you want to see what happens immediately after this scene (not that I know) but it'll probably involve a good deal of "whatcha been doing for the last four years, Adam" dialogue.  Or we can skip to the next planned chapter.  Totally your call.  

Second thing, I'm really bad at written reviews.  I feel awkward when I write them.  And one day soon, I'm going to get off my behind and go on a reviewing frenzy.  You've been warned.  In the meantime, though, I just wanted to say that when I'm stuck or my mind starts wandering over the story (or thinking up new ones for y'all), I read some of the other stories for the show for inspiration and focus.  You all rock.


	9. Let's Stay Together

A/N:  So this chapter is unplanned and, therefore, turned out completely different than I thought it would when I proposed it.  It's nowhere near as informative as I thought it would be.  Oh, well, I kind of like how it turned out so I'm posting it.  But I'm glad to be going back to my outline.  As always, thanks for your reviews.  BTW, Celestial Aurora, sorry, no tears this chapter, but the next two chapters should make up for it.  Also, all the info I'd intended to give will probably be sprinkled throughout the rest of this story and one of its sequels (I have two planned: one about Joan and Adam and one about Grace and Luke).  Anyway, on with the story.  Enjoy.

            _The cool April breeze ruffled Joan's hair.  She pushed it out of her eyes and stared up at the darkening sky._  _Stars twinkled down at her, making her wish she could join them in their merry nocturnal dance--carefree in the present, without a worry about the future.  Her thoughts were consumed with the future, specifically the moment five months from now when she and Adam would go away to different schools.  He hadn't told her which school he'd chosen, but she figured it was between NYU and __Rhode Island__School__ of Design.  After all, __New York__ was the center of the American art world and even she had heard of __Rhode Island__School__ of Design.  _

_            More stars appeared as Joan forced her thoughts into the present.  As of three-fifteen this afternoon, they were on Spring Break.  She and Grace planned to take a day trip to the __University__ of __Maryland__ campus to check it out.  That should be fun, but Adam wasn't going.  The melancholia that had drawn Joan to the playground in the park in the first place tugged at her again.  "Stop it," she told herself, disgusted with her own self-pity._

_            "Stop what?"_

_            Joan twisted in her swing seat to see Adam coming up behind her.  "What are you doing here?"_

_            "Looking for you."  Adam sat in the swing next to hers.  "You didn't answer my question."_

_            She stared at him, drawing a blank.  The sight of him had driven everything else out of her mind including his question.  "I'm sorry.  I don't remember what you asked."_

_            "You said 'stop it' and I said 'stop what.'"  Adam peered into Joan's clearly troubled face.  "What's bothering you?"_

_            "Nothing," she said, dismissing her pensive mood.  "I'm just tired, I think.  Good thing we don't have school next week, huh?"  She forced herself to smile._

_            He just gave a pointed look.  Her act hadn't fooled him in the least, but he wouldn't push even though she still hadn't answered his question.  It was one of the things she loved most about him—his patience with her.  Now, as he took her hand in his, she wondered how she was going to get through four years of college without him.  Grace was a great friend, her best girl friend, but she kept Joan grounded in reality.  Adam's presence helped her stay emotionally even.  He calmed and soothed her when no one else could.  Between the two of them, her life was easier and she hoped she made their lives simpler, too. _

_            "Jane?"  Adam's worried voice broke through her reverie. _

_            "Yeah?"_

_            "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"_

_            If she told him what she was thinking, she might influence his decision about college.  She was determined not to do that.  This was a turning point for him and, no matter how hard it was, she was not going to be selfish.  She nodded and summoned another smile.  "Why were you looking for me?"_

_            "I missed you," he said, swinging slightly._

_            "We were just together three hours ago," she replied._

_            He shrugged.  "So?"_

_            A pleased grin lit up Joan's face.  Adam returned it.  "That's better."_

_            Rolling her eyes, Joan squeezed his hand in thanks.  "So why were you looking for me, really?"_

_            "I need to tell you something."_

_            Her smile slipped a little at his serious tone.  "I'm listening."_

_            "I've decided which school I'm going to," he announced, his eyes on their joined hands.  "I'm going to the __University__ of __Maryland__ with you and Grace."_

_            Surprise was instantly followed by joy which dissolved into dismay.  Why the __University__ of __Maryland__?  Out of all the schools he'd been accepted to, why would he choose to go there? He was sensitive to her moods and needs.  Had he sensed how hard preparing to let him go was for her and decided not to put her through the pain?_

_            "I know what you're thinking and that's not it."  Adam looked up into Joan's eyes.  "You told me not to include you in my decision and I didn't."_

_            "Then why?" Joan asked, struggling to understand.  "You got into some of the best schools for art in the country.  Why didn't you choose one of them?"_

_            "Can you imagine me in __L.A.__?"_

_            Confused, Joan shook her head.  No, she really couldn't._

_            "And, as far as we know, __New York__ isn't going anywhere, right?"_

_            "Right."  She still felt clueless._

_            "That takes care of NYU and UCLA."_

_            "But what about the art schools: __Rhode Island__, Pratt, __Atlanta__College__ of Art?" Joan protested.  "Those are great schools."_

_            "Yes, they are," Adam conceded.  They were swinging together now, which was a strange feat since they were facing in opposite directions.  He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand in comforting circles.  "I just don't think they're where I need to be right now."_

_            Try as she might, Joan still didn't understand.  _

_            "We've known each other for, what, a year and a half now?" asked Adam._

_            Joan nodded.  _

_            "For most of that time, I've been sort of reentering the world after three years spent in my own bubble.  You're the reason I'm not still there."_

_            "But you don't need me to stay in the world," Joan said, wondering why she was trying to talk Adam out of going to college with her and Grace.  After all, isn't this what she wanted?_

_            "Maybe," he said.  "But I think that I do need to be around a wider range of people than other art students."_

_            "You can get that at NYU . . ."_

_            "Which we already established will be there in four years.  If I'm going to go to a liberal arts college, I'd rather be with you and Grace than in __New York__ surrounded by strangers.  For now anyway."_

_             Her emotions careening crazily inside her, Joan dropped her eyes to their joined hands.   A part of her was elated that they would be together, but another part of her was terrified that Adam was making a mistake.  This was his future and she wanted the best for him.  The best had been laid out at his feet and, though UMD was a really good school, she wasn't convinced it was the right one for him._

_            "This isn't the reaction I expected," Adam said.  "I thought you'd be, I don't know, happy.  Excited."_

_            She'd hurt his feelings.  "Adam, it's not what you think.  I'm doing cartwheels inside at the idea of us going to college together.  I just  . . . are you sure this is the best thing for you?"_

_            Adam nodded.  "UMD has a pretty good art department, Jane.  I checked.  Your mom checked, too."_

_            His certainty overrode Joan's reserve.  The joy she'd been holding at bay exploded inside her.  "So, we're going to college together," she said, wonder filling her voice. She wasn't going to have to let him go after all. _

_            "It looks that way.  Is that all right with you?"  Joan tugged his hand, pulling him and his swing close to her.  She kissed him with every ounce of her joy and love.  He leaned back and watched her eyes dance.  "I'll take that as a yes."_

_            "That's definitely a yes," she said, kissing him again.  When she finally pulled back, they let the sounds of the night envelope them as they swung, content.  Eventually, Joan broke the silence.  "Hey, Adam?"_

_            "Yeah?"_

_            "Grace and I were planning a day trip to the campus on Monday.  You want to come?"_

_            Catching Joan's eye, Adam pulled her in for another kiss.  When they finally came up for air, he said, "I can't think of a better way to spend our anniversary."_

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          

            She shouldn't have lied to him.  That was the conclusion Joan came to as she and Adam sat in an empty movie theater with a bucket of cooling popcorn and nothing to entertain them but the useless movie trivia on the screen and the monotonous music on the P.A. system.  At the time, the lie had seemed reasonable.  Joan snuck a glance at her watch and sighed.  The movie didn't start for another twenty-five minutes.  

            Thoroughly disappointed in herself, Joan decided to take this quiet time to wallow.  She knew it hadn't been a big lie, but that made it worse somehow.  Was such an insignificant matter really worth lying about?  One of the great things about her relationship with Adam was that they didn't lie to each other.  Evade questions, yes, but never lie.   Looking at some inane quote on the screen, Joan felt just short of wicked.  They could have missed this.  

            She started when Adam took her hand in his and looked into his laughing eyes.  He kissed the back of her hand then propped his chin on their linked fingers.  "I forgive you."

            "What?"

            He grinned at her.  "I forgive you."

            Did he know?  "For what?"

            "For lying."

            Joan felt sick.  He knew.  "I'm sorry," she said, bowing her head in shame.

            Without releasing her hand, Adam put his arm around her and pulled her against his side.  "It's okay, Jane."

            "No, it's not.  I lied to you."

            "I gave you reason."

            His willingness to forgive her only made her feel worse.  "There's no reason good enough to lie over."

            Adam kissed the furrow between her brows.  "So you told me to come over forty-five minutes earlier than necessary.  I haven't been punctual since … ever."

            "It was still wrong."

            "At least I'm getting to spend this time with you.  I could be in my shed working myself to exhaustion."  He shrugged.  "This is better."

            "You're sure."

            Adam smiled at the vulnerable, anguished note in her voice.  She was really taking this too seriously.  "Yeah.  Just don't do it again."

            "Promise."  Joan laid her head on his shoulder.  

            Two weeks had passed since he'd told her he was staying in Arcadia for a while.  They had spent most of their spare time together just hanging out.  They'd decided that reestablishing their friendship was the best course of action.  So far, that plan was working out even though they hadn't shared as many random platonic kisses or held hands as often as they did now when they had been just friends.  

             Their time together had been good, but Joan was worried about Adam.  Something was bothering him, she could feel it, but he wouldn't talk about it.  She didn't want to push him; he'd talk when he was ready.  But, in the meantime, he still wasn't sleeping.  The bags under his eyes were getting worse.  His habit of tuning out the world around him was more pronounced.  And, despite the hours he spent working in his shed, he hadn't once asked her to see his new work or even shown any enthusiasm for it.  

            Her two best friends in the world were going through things and neither would let her help.  She was a counselor, for goodness's sake.  It was her job to help.  Not being able to was driving her crazy.

            "Talk to me."

            Joan glanced up at his whisper.  "About what?"

            "Whatever's on your mind."

            Staring into his eyes, she wondered if she should voice her concerns.  Though things were going well for them, their relationship was still at a delicate stage.  As the look in his eyes went from curious to uneasy, she decided to evade his request until she could think of something light to talk about.  "Why are we whispering?"

            In answer, Adam indicated the slowly filling theater with a tilt of his head.  "Don't change the subject."

            "So far, there is no subject."

            "Jane," he said, "I know what you're doing.  Whatever you were thinking was about me."

            She lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see the depth of her worry.

            "Talk to me, Jane."

            The resigned understanding in his voice prompted her to admit what she'd been trying to hold in.  "I'm just worried about you as usual."

            "Why?"

            "Because you're not sleeping, are you?"

            He smiled.  She always paid attention to his moods and appearance.  Had he really thought she hadn't noticed the current changes in him?  "No, not really."

            Joan sighed, debating whether or not to pursue  the topic.  She glanced at her watch.  They had fifteen minutes left before the movie started.  Finally, she said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

            "Not really, no," he answered with a shake of his head.  "But I will because you'll only worry more if I don't."

            "I don't want to pressure you."

            "You're not."  He chuckled lightly.  "It's just . . . I haven't talked about this with anyone.  It's hard."

            She sat up and gave him her undivided attention.  "Ready when you are."

            Adam took a deep, calming breath.  "It's my art.  I think I've lost it."

            "What do you mean, lost it?"

            "I mean that the stuff I've been creating doesn't mean anything to me."  He closed his eyes, not wanting to say the words out loud.  "Sometimes, when I finish a piece, I don't recognize it.  It's like it just appeared out of nowhere and I had nothing to do with its creation."

            Joan took his other hand in hers.  "I'm sorry."

            He acknowledged her sympathy with a nod.  "Sometimes though, something genuine like _Jane_ gets through."

            "_Jane_?"

            "The piece I gave you."

            "It's called _Jane_?" she asked.

            Smiling at her surprised look, he nodded.  "It's how I see you."

            Joan rolled her eyes and muttered, "Organized chaos."

            "Something like that," he admitted, making her laugh.  

            They fell silent as a couple squeezed past them to the middle of the row.  Then Joan caught Adam's eye, all traces of amusement gone.  "It's not going well, is it?"

            "What?"

            "Reconnecting with your art."

            "No, it's not."  He'd known she would realize that that was why he'd been working so hard.  Trying to rediscover his vision, the joy he used to have when creating his pieces.  Suddenly tired and depressed, he dropped his head on the back of his seat and prayed for the movie to start.

            Joan propped her chin on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.  "It'll happen."

            "You think so?"  Adam rolled his head toward her.  She was so close, his lips were a hair's breadth away from hers. 

            "I do."  She willed her eyes to stay on his, but they strayed to his mouth of their own volition.  She swallowed as her eyes traced the outline of his lips in the dimming light.  She had always been fascinated by his mouth.  It was so endearing for a boy, even more so for a man.  Without realizing what she was doing, she licked her own suddenly dry lips, making him gasp.  Her eyes fluttered closed as his breath brushed her mouth.  They leaned toward each other, eager to kiss for the first time in four years.

            "Coming soon to a theater near you," the sound system boomed.  They jerked upright.  The theater was full and dark.  The previews began to play across the screen.  Their fifteen minutes were up.

            Releasing their hold on each other, they settled into their seats, making sure they didn't touch.  Joan's heart pounded wildly in her chest.  She felt like crying in frustration even though she knew they weren't ready to move on to kissing yet.  They were still reconnecting as friends; reconnecting as lovers was something they needed to work up to.  After all, they still had two separate lives in two separate cities.  But, oh, he was so close.  

            She snuck a peek at Adam out of the corner of her eye.   He sat with one arm across his stomach.  His chin was propped in his other hand, which covered his mouth.  He stared at the screen as if his sanity depended on it.  Fighting the urge to push him back in his seat and kiss him senseless, Joan decided that she'd follow his example.  They were going to do this right, even if killed her.


	10. Love Me Still

A/N: At last, I am done with this chapter.  I had so looked forward to it and, when I finally got to it, it betrayed me by being the most difficult one to write so far.  As a result, I'm not at all pleased with it, but I'm flexible, so I'll get over it.  I may have gone overboard though, so feel free to tell me so.  As always, thanks so much for your reviews; I appreciate them greatly.  

Jane and Adam – Joan lied about what time Adam was supposed to come pick her up for their movie date.  I really just needed a way to get into the chapter and that helped.  

KateM – I agree with you wholeheartedly.  I'm so tired of write just about Joan, Adam, Grace and God.  It's a problem I have in my writing; I tend to focus on a small number of characters.  Others are coming soon—they're just of my own creation, I think.  I don't know what I'm writing next anymore.  I do, however, promise to try and do better, faster.

Disclaimer:  The two songs I used in this chapter are _With These Hands _and _For All We Know_.  Both are by Joe Sample, a jazz pianist, but are sung by Howard Hewitt and Lalah Hathaway, respectively.  

On with the story.  Enjoy.

            _"I can't get over how awesome that was!" __Madison__ exclaimed as she and Adam entered her apartment building.  They had just returned from the opening night gala of Adam's latest art show.  While it was his third since graduation, it was __Madison__'s first time attending such an event and she was still buzzed about it._

_            "There were so many people.  So many_ important_ people," she chirped as they got on the elevator.  "It must be so cool to have such influential people interested in your work."_

_            He shrugged. "It's not bad," he admitted._

_            "Not bad!  Are you kidding?" __Madison__ exclaimed as they got off on her floor.  She tended to speak in exclamation points.  Pouting, she handed him her door key.  "I wish people were as interested in my work as they are in yours."_

_            Instead of answering immediately, Adam focused on unlocking the door.  __Madison__ was a struggling actress fresh out of college.  Between her off-off-Broadway roles, she worked as a part-time assistant for Adam's mentor, Dr. Riley.  Pushing opening the door, he stepped back so she could enter.  She flipped on the lights and he tossed her keys on the end table.  "Give it time," he said.  After all, she was talented.  He just wasn't sure she was talented enough.  "If theatre's what you're meant to do, it'll happen."  _

_            Collapsing on her couch, Adam mentally cringed at what he'd just said.  Could he be more unoriginal?  But __Madison__ didn't notice.  She settled next to him and kissed his cheek.  "Thank you, baby."_

_            Inwardly, he flinched.  He hated it when she called him "baby."  No matter how many times he asked her not to, she just wouldn't call him anything else.  "You're welcome," came his toneless reply. _

_            "It went really well tonight, didn't it?" she asked as she ruffled his hair.  _

_            Adam just nodded.  Oddly, he wasn't as pleased by this as he knew he should be.  His career was going better than he'd ever expected.  Tonight's showing would likely garner a slew of favorable reviews.  He smiled at how arrogant that sounded.  The critics could think his collection was crap, but he'd continued in the same vein as his last show, so he doubted it.  He was living his dream.  He'd left home to pursue it.  Yet, in the back of his mind, Adam felt an inexplicable sense of dissatisfaction.  _

_            "I'm thirsty," __Madison__ said suddenly.    "Can I get you something?" she asked on her way to her tiny kitchen.  _

_            "A glass of water."  _

_            "Coming right up."_

_            Stretching his legs out in front of him, Adam folded his hands over his stomach and concentrated on relaxing his tense muscles.  He'd been wound tight for days now, but had dismissed it as nervousness over the upcoming show.  Now that the showing was over, he didn't know what was bothering him.  Maybe he was simply tired.  Not just long-day tired or haven't-been-sleeping-lately tired but soul tired.  _

_            "Here you go."  __Madison__ plopped down beside him and handed him his water._

_            Adam watched her slip her shoes off and settle into the sofa.  She seemed to him the epitome of vivacity.  Next to her, he felt all of seventy years old.  I'm only twenty-five, he thought and stifled a yawn._

_            "Oh, poor baby," she cooed.  "You're tired.  I suppose you have had a long day."_

_            "Yeah, I did.  I should go home."_

_            "You know you don't have to go."  Her normally placid blue eyes darkened as they traveled the stretched length of his body.  _

_            Though they had been dating for the past four months, Adam found __Madison__'s perusal disturbing.  Sitting up, he offered her a weak smile and patted her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "I have to go." _

_            Disappointment replaced the brief flash of desire he'd glimpsed.  With another weak smile, he gave her a brief, conciliatory kiss.  "I'll call you tomorrow."_

_            "Okay."_

_            Adam practically fled the building and hailed a cab outside.  What is wrong with you, he thought as he leaned back against the seat.  __Madison__ was sweet and kind and beautiful.  All of his friends thought so.  He thought so.  But the idea of making the transition from dating to couple didn't sit well with him.  Just like with his career, something was missing from their relationship.  _

_            What he needed was a different perspective, he decided as the cab stopped in front of his building.  He paid the driver and went up to his apartment.  It was late; Rodney and Kat were either asleep or out.  Too tired to shower, Adam trudged into his bedroom, changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed.  But sleep didn't come.  He needed to talk about whatever was going on with him and he knew that his roommates would be no help when they got back.  Who could he call at two in the morning who could help?  Grace._

_            He dialed Grace's number before he could talk himself out of it.  Though he knew she wouldn't be thrilled about the late night call, he also knew she'd understand._

_            He was on the verge of hanging up when the line was answered.  "H'lo?" a sleepy voice said._

_            "Grace?" he asked.  This was her number, but the woman's voice did not sound like his oldest friend's._

_            "Adam?"  All traces of sleep had left the speaker's voice leaving Adam stunned._

_            Jane. "What are you doing there?" he asked, wincing at the harsh demand in his tone.  "Are you visiting?"_

_            "No.  She must not have told you; I live here now," Joan said quietly._

_            "Oh.  Um, is Grace there?"_

_            "She's sleeping.  I guess I could wake her, if you want."  _

_            "No, that's okay."  What was he going to do now?  Jane was the last person who could help him.  The memory of her lying in bed beside him, her hair rumpled and a soft smile on her lips, came to mind.  His stomach clinched and he wondered what she looked like now.  Why didn't he have thoughts like this about __Madison__? _

_            "How are you?"_

_            "Fine." _

_            "No, you're not," she said so quickly, it sounds automatic.  "I'm sorry."_

_            "What makes you think I'm not fine?"  Even he heard the defensiveness in his voice.  Well, they do say a struck dog will holler._

_            "I shouldn't have . . ." Joan sighed.  "It's in your voice.  And it's two in the morning.  That's late, even for you.  But I shouldn't have said anything.  I'll, uh, I'll tell Grace you called.  Good night, Adam."_

_            Joan hung up before he could say anything else.  Like "I'm sorry."  He shouldn't have treated her like that.  His confusion about his life wasn't her fault.  Maybe he should call back and apologize.  For what? a tiny voice inside taunted.  For your behavior tonight or for your behavior over the past three years?  Shoulders drooping like a chastised child's, Adam hung up his phone.  She deserved better than a quick one-minute phone apology.  _

It's in your voice.  _How had she known?  He thought of __Madison__'s unawareness to his mood at her apartment.  Was __Madison__ just oblivious or did Joan still have a deep, almost eerie, understanding of his emotions?  _

_            Knowing that he wouldn't get any answers to his questions tonight, Adam slipped under the covers and closed his eyes.  Despite the fatigue that plagued his body, sleep eluded him.  He attempted to relax his body the way he had at __Madison__'s.  He just kept seeing her disappointed blue eyes as he got up to leave.  He forced the uncomfortable memory from his mind and focused on clearing his mind.  A pair of sympathetic brown eyes filled his mind's eye.  An ironically content smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he drifted to sleep._

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          

            A slight frown marred Joan's brow as she watched Adam.  While there was nothing overtly peculiar about his behavior, she sensed that something was on Adam's mind.  The same thing that had been on his mind for the past few days.  She forced the thought away.  They were in a romantic restaurant—Italian, of course—a Puccini opera playing softly in the background.  The food was amazing.  She would not ruin their first actual date by probing into something Adam obviously wasn't ready to share with her.  Swirling her wine in its glass, Joan took a sip before deciding on a safe discussion topic.  "How do you like helping Mom with her art classes?"__

            Adam looked up as if he were surprised to find her there.  She didn't know whether she should be offended or not.  In the interest of keeping the peace, she decided to let his inattention go without remark.  It wasn't like this was the first time he'd slipped off into his own world when they'd been together.  

            "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to . . ." he stammered, laughing sheepishly.  "It's good.  Most of her students are really passionate about art.  Working with them reminds me of what that feels like."

            "So, you've got your art back?"  She twirled her fork in her linguine.

            "Not entirely, but it's getting there."

            Joan nodded.  It pleased her to know that his art was coming back.  One less thing for him to worry about.  "Do you have any idea what caused your block?"

            Adam set down his fork and pondered Joan's question.  Finally, he said, "I think it's my life in New York.  There are some things I need to fix when I get back."

            Hoping to hide her distress at the thought of his leaving, Joan dropped her eyes to her plate.  Is that what he'd been thinking about lately?  She'd been thinking about it, too.  The time when he'd have to leave her was near and they hadn't talked about it.  

            Risking a glance at Adam, she noticed that he'd developed an intense interest in his lasagna.  Was tonight their last night together and he just hadn't told her?  _No.  Stop thinking like that_, she scolded herself.  _Focus on the present.  Enjoy being with him now._

Pasting a bright smile on her face, Joan said lightly, "Well, you're going to be sorely missed."

            Adam narrowed wary eyes at Joan's casual tone.  It was the tone she used when she knew something funny that he didn't; something that invariably embarrassed him. "Why do I think you're talking about someone other than yourself?"

            She widened her eyes as if surprised.  "You don't know?"

            "Know what?"

            Joan grinned, grateful that the awkwardness of a few seconds ago had passed.  "That you're the new school hottie."

            "I'm what?" Adam demanded.  Surely she hadn't said what he thought she'd said.

            "You heard me."  Joan enjoyed the disbelieving expression on Adam's face.  "All the young ladies of Arcadia High are in love with you."

            Adam leaned back in his seat, nonplus.   "You've got to be kidding me."

            "I'm afraid not," Joan said.  "Your presence has created a shift in the school dynamic that I've never seen before."

            "I don't want to know, do I?"

            "It seems that the art girls are the envy of all the girls, even the cheerleaders."  When his jaw dropped, Joan couldn't contain her laughter any longer.  "It's true.  They suddenly have major social clout because they get to spend so much time with you.  

            "Come on, Jane."

            "I wouldn't lie about something like this.  Haven't you noticed the way the girls watch you strut down the hall?"

            Looking offended, Adam exclaimed, "I don't strut."

            "Okay.  If you say so," she conceded in a mockingly placating voice.  "But they watch you and fantasize about you.  They write angst-ridden love poems and 'Mrs. Adam Rove' over and over in their notebooks.  And they shoot death glares at a certain school counselor because you like to have lunch with her.  I tell you, it's like being in college again."

            "I'm telling you now like I told you then," he sighed, "girls don't look at me like that."

            Joan just shook her head.  "And I'm telling you now like I told you then, yes, they do."  It never ceased to amaze her that Adam didn't realize how attractive he was.  

            "I'm the one with the photographic memory.  I should know."

            "You're also famous for your observational skills," she countered, her voice dripping with good-natured sarcasm.  "Trust me on this, you're a hottie and I'm getting death glares.  Again."  

            Adam blushed, at a loss for words.  He really was the most adorable man she'd ever known.

            "On the upside," she said, "I have the same advantage I had last time."

            "And that would be?"  

            Resting her arms on the table, Joan leaned toward him.  "I have dibs on you and I'm not giving them up."

            "That's good to know."  

            They smiled at each other.  Adam rested his hand on hers and she twined their fingers together.  He gave her hand a slight squeeze.  Joan glanced down at the table, a faint blush creeping up her neck.  How did he do that to her so easily?  

            The waiter came then and took their plates.  "Will you be having dessert?"

            Joan opened her mouth to accept, but Adam spoke first.  "No, thank you.  Just the check, please."

            Smiling at her outraged expression, Adam lightly stroked her thumb with his.  "Don't worry.  I know how you feel about dessert.  You won't be deprived."

            "You have something planned."

            "Yes, I do."

            "I can't wait."

            In seemingly no time, Adam had paid the check and they were sitting in his rental car.

            "So, where are we going?" 

            "It's a surprise," he answered, taking her hand and twining their fingers again.

            "Can't you give me a hint?"

            He raised their joined hands and brushed a kiss across the back of her hand.  "You trust me, don't you?"

            Joan stared into his sparkling eyes and her breathe caught in her throat.  She stroked his cheek with her thumb.  "You know I do."

            "Good."  He started the car and pulled off.  

            Settling back in her seat, Joan let her mind wander as he drove.   For the last month, they had been "hanging out."  They had decided to keep their time together as simple as possible, especially since neither knew how long that time would last.  So they had focused on rekindling their friendship.  Their near-kiss at the movies two weeks ago had forced them to redouble their efforts to remain strictly platonic.  However, after Helen had invited Adam to "guest-teach" with her, he and Joan had spent even more time together.  The strictly platonic thing had been slowly eroding ever since.

            Tonight was the first time either of them had done anything blatantly romantic.  Excited yet scared, Joan glanced at Adam and wondered what he had planned for her.  Whatever it was, she was certain of only one thing: she and Adam could never be "just friends."  Unfortunately, that didn't leave them with a lot of options if things didn't work out.

            "Jane," Adam said, interrupting her thoughts.  "We're here."

            They were parked outside of his dad's house.  Adam got out, came around to her side and opened the door for her.  As they came up the walk, Mr. Rove bustled out the house.  "You kids have a good night."

            "Thanks, Dad," Adam said and led Joan into the house. 

            She gasped at the scene before her.  There was a fire going in the fireplace and candles blazed everywhere.  On the coffee table were two glasses of wine and a single plate holding a slice of cheesecake drizzled with raspberry sauce.  An elegant white tulip lay next to the plate.  

            Adam escorted a speechless Joan to the table and seated her on the cushion before the plate.  Sitting down beside her, he picked up a remote and turned on the stereo.  Soft, romantic jazz filled the living room.  "Surprise."

            Joan lifted her eyes to his—pleasure and wonder evident in her gaze.  "This is incredible, Adam.  Thank you."

            "You're welcome."   He picked up the only fork and filled it with cheesecake.  He held it out to her.  

            Smiling, she let him feed her.  "Oh," she moaned as the rich, creamy flavor of the dessert melted on her tongue.  "Oh, that's good.  Where did you get this?"

            "I made it."

            She raised an eyebrow at him.   "This is sinful, you know that, right?"

            "I'm glad you like it," he laughed as he continued feeding her.

            Joan had eaten half of the cake before she realized that Adam wasn't eating any.  "Aren't you having any dessert?"

            He shook his head and lifted another forkful to her lips.  "Watching you is all the dessert I need."

            She blushed and averted her eyes, hoping he hadn't noticed the flare of desire in them.  Apparently, he'd realized they couldn't just be friends, too. Finally, Adam swirled the last bite of cheesecake in the sauce and fed it to her.  Leaning against the sofa behind them, Joan closed her eyes and relished the last of the luscious treat.  

            Resting his head on his fist, Adam watched her.  A satisfied smile graced her lips and brought one to his own.  Noticing a smear of cheesecake at the corner of her mouth, he wiped it off with his thumb before realizing what he'd done.  

            Her eyes flew open and she watched him sucked the dessert into his mouth.  Suddenly very aware of his nearness, Joan picked up the tulip and brought it to her nose.  "No rose?"

            Shaking his head, Adam tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  "I learned from Eric's mistake.  Besides, tulips are better suited to you.  Not so obvious."

            She smiled.  "Tonight was lovely."

            "It's not over yet unless you need to go home," he whispered.

            Joan looked up at him.  It wasn't even eight o'clock—much too early to go home, far too soon to leave him.  "I don't want to go home yet."

            With a nod, Adam stood and held his hand out to her.  "In that case, would you like to dance?"

            "I'd love to," she said as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to an empty expanse of floor.  He took her into his arms and they began to dance.  

             "When's the last time we did this?" she asked.

            "Senior prom."

            "We should have done this more often," she murmured as she relaxed into his arms.

            Adam shrugged.  "Maybe.  I don't think it would have been the same."

            "No," Joan admitted, "but it would have been nice.  This is nice."  

            Moving closer to Adam, Joan rested her head on his shoulder.  He laid her hand over his heart and pressed his over it.  _This is better than nice,_ she thought.  She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of being in his arms again.  As far as she was concerned, it had been much too long.  

            One love song led to another as they danced.  They had been dancing for some time when Adam began singing along softly in her ear.

                        With these hands/

                        I will cling to you/

                        I'm yours/

                        Forever and a day/

            Joan smiled as the lyrics enveloped around them.  Nope.  Definitely not "just" friends. 

                        And with these hands/

                        I will bring to you/

                        A tender love/

                        As warm as May/

                        And with this heart/

                        I will sing/

                        I will sing to you/

                        Long after the stars/

                        Have lost their glow/

                        And with these hands/

                        I'll provide for you/

                        And should there be/

                        A stormy sea/

                        I'll turn the tide for you/

                        And I'll never/

                        No, I'll never, no/

                        No, I'll never let /

                        Never let you go/

            Tears sprang to her eyes at the words and she blinked them back as the bridge played.  He meant them; she could hear it in his voice.  She felt elated and confused and sorrowful at the same time.  Everything he'd just sang, she felt, too.  But the situation wasn't that simple.  One or both of them would have to make a major life change.  She'd just done that last year when she moved back to Arcadia.  She didn't know if she could do that again.  And she couldn't ask him to leave his life for her.  The song ended and Joan pulled back out of his arms, hiding her teary eyes from him.  "I need to sit for a minute."

            She made her way to the armchair and sank into it.  Her feet hurt so she decided to solve that problem instead of dealing with her suddenly high emotions.  Leaning over, she attempted to take off one of her shoes but couldn't see to do it.  With frustration adding itself to her growing list of emotions, Joan tried again.  

            Her hair had fallen forward and surrounded her.  Adam stood where she'd left him, entranced by the beautiful picture she made.  After her third attempt, he realized that she was having trouble with the buckles.  Squatting before her, Adam gently pushed her hands aside and undid her shoe.  Just as he set it down, he heard her sniff.  He lifted her chin and pushed the hair out of her face.  She was crying.  Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, which he handed to her.

            "I'd forgotten you used to carry these," she whispered as she blotted her tears.  "I hated these things."

            "You did?"  Joan nodded.  "Why?"

            "They made me feel like a crybaby."

            "You do seem to cry a lot," he teased gently.

            Gasping with mock outrage, Joan playfully hit his shoulder, throwing him off-balance.  He landed on his butt and Joan giggled.  "Sorry."

            "No, you're not."  He laughed and sat before her, Indian-style.  Pulling her other leg into his lap, he removed her other shoe.  He watched her face soften, her lips part, before she raised her eyes to his.  They captured his, showing him everything that she wasn't ready to say.  She swallowed and dropped her eyes to her foot.  Adam followed her gaze and found himself absently rubbing her instep.  This evening wasn't going the way he'd planned.  The time wasn't right for him and Joan to take the next step, he knew that.  Reluctantly and with great resolve, Adam put her foot on the floor and stood.  "I, uh, I need to go get something."

            "Okay."  Joan watched him leave the room and damned her overwrought emotions for ruining a lovely evening.But, instead of following Adam, she went to stand in front of the fireplace.   She knew that he'd left to give her some time to pull herself together.  "Why do you make everything so hard, Girardi?" she muttered to herself.  "You know what you want.  Stop being so negative and go after it."  It was easier said than done.  All she really knew was that she wanted him.  Unfortunately, she had no clue how she should go about getting him.  

            Suddenly, a pair of masculine hands glided over her stomach.  Adam wrapped her in his arms from behind and propped his chin on her shoulder.  They began to sway gently to the music.  "Jane?"

            "Yes?"

            "Let's just enjoy the evening, okay?" he whispered.  "No pressure, no worries about the future.  Just the two of us, right now."

            Nodding, she whispered back, "All right."

            They stared into the fire, soaking in the pleasure of being together.  The overwhelming feeling of rightness she felt whenever she was with Adam always amazed her.  No one else had ever brought her the sense of completion that being in his arms gave her.

            "Why didn't we dance like this more often?" Joan asked again as a jazzy standard started playing.  

            "I don't know," he said, giving her a little hug, "but I've gotten far too used to doing this since then."

            "How many other girls have you done this with?"

            "Not this this," he said, smiling at the hint of jealousy in her voice.  "Dancing in general."

            "Why?"

            "Kat," he answered, referring to his roommate's girlfriend.  "She found it appalling that I couldn't dance."

            "I thought you danced fine."

            "So did I.  However, Kat said that if it was the last thing she did, she'd teach me how to do more than sway in a circle in time to the music.  Thus, the dance lessons began.  I can now do the foxtrot, the two-step, the waltz, the Charleston, and a slew of Latin dances."

            The mental image of Adam doing the foxtrot made her smile.  "How did she manage to coerce you into all that?"

            Adam laughed.  "Kat's kind of an irresistible force of nature.  Once she'd made up her mind, that was it.  There was no hope of me getting out of it."

            "Well, she did a very good job."

            "Thanks."  He kissed her cheek.  "I'll be sure to let her know."

            At the mention of his impending departure, they fell silent again.  As if by mutual agreement, they continued to sway while the tension subsided.  

For all we know/

                        We may never meet again/

                        Before you go/

                        Make this moment sweet again/

                        We won't say goodnight/

                        Until the last minute/

                        I'll hold out my hand/

                        And my heart will be in it/

            Joan sighed and closed her eyes against the sadness.  She couldn't ignore the signs anymore.  "When do you leave?"

            "Day after tomorrow," Adam said. 

            "What time?"

            "One.  I just made the arrangements today."

            "Were you going to tell me?" Joan whispered, blinking back fresh tears.

            His heart aching to hear the sorrow in her voice, he nodded.  "When I took you home tonight.  How did you know?"

            "Few people can just drop out of their lives for a week, let alone a month.  It was only a matter of time.  Besides, it keeps coming up."  Letting her head fall back on his shoulder, she stared up at him with a sorrowful smile on her lips.  

            Tentatively, Adam lowered his mouth until it hovered just above hers.  Joan threaded her fingers in his soft curls and closed the distance between their lips.  ****

                        For all we know/

                        This may only be a dream/

            Adam traced the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue.  With a hushed moan, she parted her lips beneath his.  His tongue swept in, reacquainting itself with her and all thought of tomorrow disappeared from Joan's mind.

                        We come and we go/

                        Like the ripples on a stream/

            She turned in his arms and took his face in her hands.  

                        So love me tonight/

                        Tomorrow was made for some/

                        Tomorrow may never come/

                        For all we know/

            With supreme effort, Adam ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

                        Tomorrow may never come/

                        For all we know/

            "So," Joan swallowed and took a deep breath before continuing, "this is really good-bye."

            Adam shook his head.  "Saturday."  

            Joan didn't see what difference it made.  They still hadn't had enough time together. 

            "I don't want to leave you."

            With a bittersweet smile, she cupped his cheek in her hand and brushed a soft kiss on his lips.  He'd said that to her before.  "But you have to.  You have a life to straighten out."

            "We didn't straighten things out between us."

            "But we know how feel.  Now, we just have to figure out what we want and how we're going to get it."

            Adam nodded, knowing she was right.  He caressed her face lovingly before burying his hand in her hair.  He kissed her once more.  "It's getting late and you have work tomorrow.  I should take you home."

            Joan nodded and put her shoes back on while Adam doused the fire and blew out the candles.  For a long moment, they stared at each other, recalling what they had been.  Then Adam held out his hand.  She took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet.  Without a word, they left the house and got into Adam's car.  

            The drive was quiet.  Now that she knew when he was leaving, she felt steadier.  At least, she knew how much time they had left and, though it saddened her, she found a curious sense of peace in knowing.  Adam grasped her hand and Joan squeezed his, gaining strength from the simple touch.  Eventually, he pulled up to her building and walked her to her apartment.

            "Can I take you to the airport?" she asked as she faced him at her front door.

            "I'd like that."

            "I'll pick you up at ten."  They stood awkwardly for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed.  "Everybody'll probably want to say good-bye before you go."

            "I know."

            "Maybe we could have a dinner tomorrow night."

            Adam smiled at her valiant attempt to make this less painful for them.  "That would be nice."

            "So, I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow."

            "Yeah."  He wanted to say something more, something to make this easier.  

            Joan couldn't look at him any longer, seeing her heartache mirrored in his face.  She took his face in her hands and gave him a brief, soft kiss good night, then fled into her apartment before he could say anything else.  Once she made it to her room, she collapsed on the bed.  So it was happening again.  At least, this time wouldn't be as bad as last time.


	11. Realizations

A/N: Hey, all. All right, there are three new chapters up. If there are any glaring mistakes, please let me know. I hope you like them. Thanks for all the support. Oh, and Adam had to go back to New York eventually. After all, he lives there. You just have to trust me. And, for the record, I don't line this horizontal line thing ff.net has going on. I liked my asterisks. 

Alexandri 

_ "What are we watching?" Adam asked as he preceded __Madison__ into the living room. He carried the drinks while she brought the popcorn. He sat, set the glasses on the coffee table and looked up, waiting for her answer._

_ "I hope you don't mind. I'm sort of in a romantic comedy mood." Smiling, she set the popcorn bowl in his lap and laid her head on his shoulder._

_ Adam put his arm around her, pulling her more comfortably against his side. "That's fine with me." He kissed her forehead for good measure. Ever since the night of the showing, he'd determined to pay more attention to her. It had been working so far. "So what are we watching?"_

_ "_Taming of the Shrew_ with Liz Taylor and Richard Burton and _Much Ado About Nothing_. I was feeling Shakespearean. And, since Liz and Richard are depressingly beautiful, I thought we'd watch _Much Ado_ first." __Madison__ picked up the DVD remote and pressed play before Adam could object._

_ With a resigned sigh, Adam sat back and concentrated on not remembering the first time he'd seen this movie._

"You're joking, right?" Grace had asked when Joan told them what they were watching. "You get one pick for movie night once a month and you chose Shakespeare?"

"I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone," she said as she pushed the tape into the VCR. "We have to read it in my drama class, and I've tried, but I'm not getting it. Maybe this way I will." Joan sat on the sofa and curled her legs beneath her before slipping her hand into Adam's. 

Grace glared at Joan. "This better be good, Girardi."

"Chill, Grace," Adam said as Luke said, "It will be."

Grace just turned her glare on Luke who turned toward the TV. They were only ten minutes into the movie when Grace and Luke started debating the merits of Beatrice versus Benedick. Grace called Benedick a chauvinistic prick; Luke said Beatrice was bitter. Trying not to laugh, Joan and Adam kept their eyes glued the movie. 

Everything was fine—once Joan turned on the closed captioning—until she returned from a popcorn run. Instead of sitting beside Adam, she settled in his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's safer here than next to those two," she whispered in explanation. "Besides, you're comfortable." 

Except he wasn't. Between the scent of her surrounding him and the way she absently trailed her fingertips up and down his arm, Adam was distinctly uncomfortable. He spent the next hour waiting for the movie to end and fervently wishing it wouldn't.

As the credits rolled up the screen, she pulled back and smiled at him. Her smile faded as she stared in his eyes. He lowered them, hoping she hadn't realized the extent of his discomfort. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't think about . . ." She moved to sit beside him. Both were surprised when he tightened his arm around her waist. 

For a long moment, they merely stared at each other. "You know what I think?"

"What?" he whispered.

"I think you and I are like Claudio and Hero and Grace and Luke are like Beatrice and Benedick." She gazed at the bickering pair with an indulgent smile. "We know we're meant to be and it's going to take forever for them to figure it out."

"If that's true," Adam said after thinking about it for a moment, "then we're destined to break up."

Joan shook her head. "Never gonna happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

"We love each other too much." She brushed her lips across his before settling in for a deeper kiss.

_"Adam?"_

_ Blinking, he looked down to find __Madison__ watching him. A glance at the TV told him the movie was almost over. He'd spent the whole time thinking about his ex-girlfriend. Damn it. _

_Madison__ sat up and pushed away from him. She stopped the movie and turned on the lamp beside her. "We need to talk."_

_ "Yeah." He hated these talks. It's obviously not working, but we gave it our best, didn't we? It was never true, not for him anyway. The truth was that he barely tried at all. He just coasted along, hoping someone would break through and touch his heart._

_ "You still love her, whoever she is, don't you?"_

_ "Probably." _Liar,_ he scolded himself. _Stop fooling yourself. You don't want to admit it, but you still love Jane—wholly, exclusively, undeniably. _"Yes."_

_ "So I'm, like, your rebound girl?" __Madison__ asked. _

_ Flinching at the dejection in her voice, Adam couldn't hold back his sullen chuckle. If only. "No, you're not my rebound girl. Apparently, there is no rebounding from her."_

_ "Suddenly, I'm not in a romantic comedy mood anymore."_

_ "I'm sorry," he said helplessly. "I didn't realize . . . hadn't admitted . . . I thought I was over her. I should probably go."_

_Madison__ snickered. "It seems like you say that every time you come over."_

_ Adam stood and got his coat, grateful that she hadn't screamed at him or anything like that. Of course, she was perfectly entitled to. He had strung her along because he was unwilling to examine his heart. "I wish I could make this right somehow."_

_ "You can't," she said. He could hear unshed tears in her voice. "Just leave, please?"_

_ Nodding, he opened the door. "Good-bye, __Madison__."_

* * *

Adam glanced at his watch—three thirty-two. Looking back at his list, he realized he'd never make it downtown to the bank or to SoHo to talk to Sasha about the gallery pieces she anticipated. At least he'd managed to talk to his editor about the illustrations he did while in Arcadia. And lunch with Dr. Riley had gone very well, especially considering he'd wanted to talk about his now nonexistent artistic block. 

He should have gotten started with his day earlier, but inspiration had gotten the better of him. Smiling at the memory of his morning in the studio, he didn't regret a single second of it. Still, Adam figured he'd have to move some things around if he was going to fit Sasha in tomorrow. She'd go ballistic if she didn't hear from him soon. And he still had to meet with his broker, his lawyer and his agent. Pulling out the cell phone he'd forgotten he had in Arcadia, he dialed Sasha's number on his way to the subway. 

"You promised you'd be here," Sasha scolded the moment she heard Adam's voice. "Today."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not good enough, Adam. I need to be in the loop . . ."

"I know, but . . ." 

"But nothing." Talking to Sasha was always like this: berate now, get details later. "You have a show coming up . . ."

"In four months."

Sasha huffed. "That's exactly my point. You have a showing in four months and you don't have any more time to waste after last month's disappearing act. By the way, you don't write, you don't call."

Smiling in spite of Sasha's tirade, Adam apologized yet again. After all, he doubted his career would be as successful as it had been if it weren't for Sasha's support and connections. "It was a spur-of-the-moment disappearance."

"I understand. I appreciate the need to get away from it all. Really, I do. But you don't have that luxury, Adam, because, frankly, the last few pieces you showed me were pedestrian at best."

Adam sighed. Though it often hurt, Sasha's unfailing honesty was another reason why he was grateful to know her. She'd been after him for months now to take an artistic risk, explore his depths. _I know you've got them_, she often said. "You're right."

"I know I'm right."

"In that case, you'll be happy to know that I spent the entire morning working on some new pieces."

"And?"

Again, he smiled at the memory of his morning. "And I think they have the potential to be some of the best work I've ever done."

Her excited laugh soared over the phone. "Exploring your depths?"

"Something like that," he answered, chuckling at her hopeful tone. "Look, can I see you tomorrow?"

"Eleven o'clock, sharp," she said, switching back to business mode. "No excuses."

"I'll be there. Thanks, Sasha." He hung up and adjusted his list as he trotted down the subway steps. In the four days since he'd returned, Adam had been extremely busy. Between seeing his friends over the weekend and trying to get his affairs in order Monday and today, he'd barely had time for anything else. Like calling Joan. He'd called her Saturday right after he'd called his father, but hadn't talked to her since. He missed her. 

Adam had just gone through the turnstile when he heard someone call his name. Turning, he came face-to-face with a stunning redhead. "Tanya."

"Fancy seeing you here." She came up to him, slipped her arm around his and led him down to the platform.

Shame washed over him as he thought of his treatment of her. True, their relationship had been difficult to define. But she'd deserved more than a phone call asking if they could just be friends.

"Let it go, Adam."

"Let what go?"

Tanya gave him a radiant smile. "The guilt."

"How did you know?"

Shrugging, she said, "You're a good guy. And it's written all over your face."

"I feel like I'm missing something."

Laughing, she gave his arm a little squeeze. "You are. Where are you headed?"

"Home," he answered, feeling off-balance. Tanya always made him feel that way. 

"Mind if I ride with you? Only part of the way," she assured him.

"Sure."

In unison, they looked down the platform for the train. It was nowhere in sight. Uneasily, Adam turned back to Tanya. She seemed vastly amused.

"I'll go ahead and put you out of your misery," she announced. "You have nothing to feel guilty about."

"Why not?"

She smiled. "Because we weren't really together. I was rebounding and you were just along for the ride."

"Huh. I was your rebound guy?" That certainly explained her erratic behavior. 

"Yeah." She looked so matter-of-fact about it, he couldn't help returning her smile. "You were perfect, too, what with your heart being somewhere else anyway."

Adam raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Tanya nodded. "Train's coming."

They fell silent as the train roared into the station. Jostled into the train, Adam and Tanya clung to a pair of straps. "How did you know my 'heart was somewhere else?'"

"Adam, please? You were either gay or in love with some woman you couldn't have. Well," she amended, "I suppose you could have been in love with some other guy, but that didn't seem right. Hence, the 'your heart was elsewhere' theory."

"I'm afraid you've lost me again."

"You didn't care about my fickle behavior toward you as a lover. You just treated me like a good friend." Tanya beamed at him. "Which is just what I wanted, by the way. Companionship, but no commitment."

"Okay." He'd known that he'd eventually have this conversation with her, but he had never imagined it would go like this. 

"That's why I was so upset when you insisted on defining our relationship." Laughing at herself, she continued, "I felt like you'd violated an unspoken agreement between us. I have a habit of thinking people are on the same page I'm on. You'd think I would've learned by now that they rarely are."

He laughed despite his bewildered state. 

"The point is," she said when their laughter subsided, "I didn't mean to cause you any confusion. I just like having a guy in my life, even if it's only as a friend. When I met you, you were so nice. It didn't hurt as much—not being with my boyfriend Matt—when I was with you. I'm sorry."

"So am I. I know you said I don't need to be, but I could have done better than a phone call."

"I'll agree with that." She grinned at him.

She seemed so genuinely all right with him that Adam relaxed. "Did things work out with Matt, then?"

Tanya nodded. "We're back together. What about you and the mystery woman?"

"It's a little shaky, but I think we're headed in the right direction."

The train pulled into Union Square station. "This is my stop," she said before kissing him on the cheek. "It was good seeing you, Adam."

"You, too, Tanya."

"Good luck with your mystery lady."

"Good luck with Matt," he replied as he followed her off the train and hopped on a different one. Adam spent the rest of the trip home mulling over his talk with Tanya. His night with Joan had made it clear that he couldn't continue coasting with Tanya. He'd called her after the next day and ended the limbo that was their relationship. 

As he got off at Astor Place station and started walking home, he thought about her explanation of their association. A friendship because she liked having a guy in her life. It had sounded strange when she first said it, but Adam wondered if that's what he had been doing since he came to New York: filling the Jane void with a string of companionable friendships. Thinking of how he'd been with Tanya and Madison and the few other girls he'd dated, he realized that that was exactly what he'd done. 

Immersed in his new insight, Adam let himself into his East Village apartment. He'd found girls who wouldn't demand much from him, then told himself that he was moving on when he was really keeping Joan's spot in his protected. The realization made him feel unspeakably selfish.

"So what are you going to do now?" he asked himself as drifted over to the stereo and flipped through a row of albums. He'd been asking that since Joan dropped by his shed over a month ago. Selecting one of Rodney's Billie Holiday records, he decided that he'd continue with his current plan: get his business in order, then find a way to be with Joan. He refused to listen to the little voice that whispered, "What took you so long?"

Making Joan a permanent part of his life was too important to rush.


	12. Troubled Waters

A/N: Just to let you know, this chapter serves two purposes: to impart some info about the rest of the JoA characters, but mostly, to set up the relationship between Grace and Luke for future stories. I hope you like it all right.

_ Joan entered Adam's bedroom, showered, dressed, and wary. He was in a strange mood today—angry but solicitous. When she'd awaken this morning, he had made her a breakfast of toast, applesauce and orange juice—in case her stomach felt weak, he'd said—and served it to her in bed. It wasn't unusual for Adam to make her breakfast in bed, but for him to do so with such hooded, watchful eyes unnerved her. After she'd eaten, he'd insisted that she shower. So here she was, clean and dressed in one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, and more nervous than she could ever remember being in his presence. She climbed onto his bed and settled in the middle, her legs crossed Indian-style. "Is something wrong?" she ventured into the silence._

_ Adam made no indication that he'd heard her; he just stood by the window looking out at the overcast November sky. "Adam!"_

_ He turned his gaze to her face but didn't move from his place at the window._

_ "What's wrong?" she asked. _

_ "How do you feel?"_

_ Frowning at the hollow distance in his voice, Joan shifted under his stare. "I feel better than I did last night. It's been a while since I've gotten a full night's sleep."_

_ Nodding, he turned completely toward her. "I imagine so. With all of your new activities, you barely have time for Grace and me anymore."_

_ So that's what all of this was about. He felt neglected. With a reassuring smile, Joan held her hand out to him. "I know I've been busy but . . ."_

_"We're worried about you, Jane."_

_ Taken aback by his abrupt tone, Joan dropped her hand into her lap. "Oh. Why?"_

_ "You're kidding, right?" he scoffed. "Grace and I, we're used to your sudden, inexplicable interests, but this is ridiculous. The newspaper, the radio show, the theater troupe, the girl you're mentoring and . . . God knows what else. This is our senior year of college, Jane, and it's hard enough without piling on a bunch of extra stuff."_

_ "I know it's hard," Joan said, bewildered by his outburst, "but why are you so angry at me?"_

_ "Because it's Sunday."_

_ Sunday? That couldn't be right. She'd come over after her last class Friday afternoon. It couldn't possibly be . . . "Sunday?"_

_ "Yeah." Adam collapsed into his desk chair as if he couldn't bear standing any longer. _

_ "Why didn't you wake me?"_

_ "I tried. You were . . . dead to the world."_

_ Joan didn't know how what to say. She'd slept a whole day away—more than a day really. She hadn't even realized she was that tired. _

_"You can't keep doing this," Adam said quietly. So quietly that Joan glanced up at him. He stared at the seam of his jeans and picked at a stray thread. "It was one thing to go about trying things in high school, but it's not the same here. You can't keep doing this."_

_ "Adam?" she asked, her voice uncertain. _

_ "Just tell me why," he said. _

_ "Why what?"_

_ "Why you insist on doing things you don't even want to do?" he demanded. Why all this stuff is so important you'd risk your health like this?" _

_ Joan raised her hands in a futile attempt to reach out to him. "I . . ."_

_ "I can't do this again and not say anything, Jane." Adam stared up at her then, determination and fear mixed in his eyes. "I won't."_

_ Suddenly, everything fell into place for her—Adam's mood, his anger, his concern. His mother used to sleep like this when she got depressed, wouldn't remember things, couldn't explain what was going on with her. Despite how close they were, there had always been a part of her he couldn't reach. The part that he felt may have saved her, if only she would have shared it with him. And the same thing was happening with Joan. She closed her eyes against the shame welling up inside her. How could she have been so blind? How much time had he spent trying to be strong for her while she'd forced him to relive the worst period of his life? Probably all semester and she'd been too wrapped up in everything else in her life to notice? She'd failed him. "Adam, I'm sorry."_

_ "I don't want an apology, Jane. I want to know why."_

_ Joan sighed. How was she supposed to answer him? What could she say that would make sense? She shook her head, trying to clear the mental clutter so she could give him a coherent response._

_ "No," Adam said when she shook her head, his voice low and angry. "Don't tell me that it's a secret or that I wouldn't understand or that it's best just to leave it alone. I'm scared, Jane. What if you hadn't made it here last night? Your apartment is on the other side of campus. Anything could have happened to you and nobody would know why. I deserve to know why."_

_ "I know," she said, her heart breaking to see him so upset. "I just . . ." She stopped, not knowing what to tell him so he _would_ understand._

_ "Just what?" he asked when she didn't continue. _

_ Helplessly, Joan lapsed into silence. She'd always known that she would have to tell him one day, but she had never figured out how. _

_ The silence dragged on for what felt like an eternity. Adam continued to pick at his jeans while Joan stared miserably at his comforter. Had it really come down to this? She took a deep breath. He'd believe her; she'd always said he would. _You said it,_ an inner voice taunted,_ but did you believe it?_ Obviously not. She peeked at him; he was hurting, everything about him radiated pain. She had done that. She couldn't keep doing that. "You might not like what I have to say."_

_ "I'm not asking you to tell me a pretty bedtime story, Jane," he said, still not looking at her. "I just want the truth."_

_ "Okay," she whispered and held her hand out to him for the third time. He looked at it for a long moment before taking her hand and sitting on the bed in front of her. Taking his other hand in hers, she squeezed them briefly and took another breath. "I talk to God," she blurted._

_ Adam stared at her blankly. "That's the big secret?"_

_ Joan's mouth dropped open. "What? You knew?"_

_ "Lots of people talk to God, Jane. It's called praying."_

_ "Right," she said. Smothering a fit of giggles, Joan smiled at Adam and shook her head. "I think I should try that again. The big secret isn't so much that I talk to God as much as He talks to me." Suddenly apprehensive, she dropped her eyes to their conjoined hands._

_ "God talks to you."_

_ "Yeah." She risked a peek at him. He was staring at a point over her shoulder, considering what she'd just told him._

_ "And the things you do that you don't want to do . . ."_

_ "They're assignments."_

_ "Huh."_

_ "He says that I don't have to do them. Big fan of free will. Not so much of explanations. I've ignored Him before." She shrugged and glanced back down at their hands in her lap. "It's better to do as He asks. Except when I . . . can't. There's only so much time."_

_ "How?" he asked._

_ Somehow, Joan knew what he meant. "He comes to me in different forms. People forms. Some He uses over and over again, most only once or twice." She sighed; he hadn't said much. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? It couldn't possibly be good. "Please say something."_

_ "'I just do what I'm told,'" he murmured, wonder in his voice._

_ Joan was peering into Adam's face, thoroughly confused. "What?" she asked._

_ Suddenly, Adam looked at her and smiled. "As reasons go, that's a pretty good one."_

_ "You believe me?"_

_ He nodded. _

_ "You believe me or you believe I believe me?"_

_ "I believe you," he answered with a small smile. "I mean, it explains a lot. Your general lack of enthusiasm for most of your bizarre undertakings. Your habit of yelling at strangers. Why your explanations, when you give them, never make sense."_

_ Blushing, she said, "I thought you'd believe me, but, well, people have been committed for less than this and I . . ." She stopped as a look of awe came over Adam's face. "What?"_

_ "When you said God gave us to each other, you really meant He gave us to each other, didn't you?"_

_ Joan nodded._

_ Adam laughed. "I always thought you were my personal angel."_

_ Wondering for the millionth time what she'd ever done to deserve him, Joan leaned forward and kissed Adam. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. "I love you," she whispered against his mouth._

_ "I love you, too," he answered before claiming her lips again. When the kiss finally ended, Adam tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and sighed. "Do me a favor?"_

_ "Yeah?"_

_ "Ask Him to ease up on the assignments for a while. I really am worried about you."_

_ "I'll ask," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder, "but I make no promises."_

* * *

"Hello, Joan."

Hand over her heart, Joan glanced up to find God in His cute, teenage boy form. "You're sneaking up on me now?"

He just smiled and folded His arms on top of her VW bug.

Joan glared at Him and copied His stance. "As I'm sure You already know, I'm late for Sunday night dinner. Mom hates it when I'm late, so could we just cut to the chase?"

"You're not listening, Joan."

"You haven't said anything yet."

"Your assignment, Joan," He said with infinite patience. When she stared at Him with a weary, blank expression, He chuckled and said, "The one I gave you a month and a half ago at the arts fair. 'Listen and be open.' Any of this ringing a bell?"

Joan rolled her eyes. "We're back to snippy, I see."

Cute Boy God just raised His eyebrows.

"So I've been a little preoccupied. Smite me, sue me, whatever. But I really need to go," she said as she opened her car door.

"No time for God, Joan?" The words stopped her cold. "As for smiting, I thought I made it pretty clear I don't do that."

"I know."

"And being preoccupied doesn't excuse you from the assignment."

"You don't understand . . ."

Cute Boy God laughed. "Joan."

She blushed in frustrated embarrassment. "I mean, it's been two weeks since he left and I miss him. Everything's so up-in-the-air with Adam and I've had a hard time focusing on anything else."

"That's why this is the perfect time for you to start listening to others."

"Okay," she said, clearly mystified.

"It's all about perspective. Adam's visit had a direct impact on you. But for others, it stirred up thoughts and feelings that have long been dormant."

"Who are You talking about?"

"Pay attention, Joan. Listen. Learn something." With that, He turned to walk away.

"Learn what?" she called after Him, knowing He wouldn't answer but asking anyway. He merely waved and walked out of sight.

Joan scoffed as she got into her car. "Why me?" She shoved the key in the ignition and headed to her parents' house. The last two weeks had been hard on Joan. She'd been given the one thing she wanted more than anything else in the world only to have it taken away again. The first time he left, she had known it was over. Now, she felt like she was in limbo, with him but not at the time. It didn't help that he had only been able to call twice since he'd left.

To help distract her, she'd filled her time with an assortment of activities. In addition to counseling the students, she'd taken it upon herself to coordinate a picnic for the end of the upcoming Seniors' Week. She spent her weekends babysitting Kevin and Rebecca's two-year-old daughter, Leila. The rest of the time, she dragged Grace to various events—the movies, festivals, exhibits—anything to keep her mind off Adam.

Pulling into her parents' driveway, Joan decided she just would not think about him. She went in the back door, dumped her purse and coat in one of the kitchen chairs and hurried into the dining room.

"Joan," Helen fussed in greeting as her daughter breezed by to her seat.

"I know. Sorry I'm late. I lost track of time." Kissing the top of Leila's head before she sat, Joan cast a quick glance around the table. Her parents sat at either end. Leila sat between herself and a hugely pregnant Rebecca. Across from them were Kevin and Grace. She was glad Grace had made it tonight. Even though they had been spending a lot of their spare time together, Grace had been unusually quiet. Maybe she'd open up tonight.

"What kept you?" Will asked, passing her a bowl of mashed potatoes.

She wasn't about to admit that she'd been waiting for Adam to call. That was beyond pathetic. It was just plain sad. "Just getting some late-minute work done. Did I miss anything?"

For the next hour, they caught up on each other's lives: Kevin's new column, the progress of Rebecca's pregnancy, Joan's plans for the senior picnic, upcoming topics on Grace's radio talk show, the latest drama at the precinct, even Leila's newest toy. Joan relaxed into the rhythm of the conversation, lulled by the comforting ebb and flow of their voices. She wondered what New York was like this time of year.

"Why so quiet, Joan?"

Looking up at Kevin's question, Joan was startled to find all eyes on her. "What?"

"You spaced out, Girardi," Grace said pointedly.

"Oh." 

"Is something on your mind, honey?" Helen asked.

Joan opened her mouth to dismiss her mother's concern, then settled on shaking her head.

"Rove's on her mind." 

Joan looked at Grace questioningly, thrown by her friend's caustic tone. "I'll admit I've been thinking about him a lot lately," she said carefully.

Grace scoffed, "You've been thinking about him a lot for the last month and a half."

"Does that bother you?" Joan couldn't remember Grace ever acting like this unless she'd done something major to piss her off. She didn't see where missing Adam would cause this confrontational attitude.

"No," she said facetiously. "It's just like high school all over again."

"If you have something to say, Grace, just say it."

"I don't need your permission."

Tired and perplexed by Grace's attitude, Joan said, "Then what's stopping you?"

"Girls, really," Helen interjected. "Is this necessary?"

"No," Joan said, ready to back down from what she knew would be an awful fight with her best friend.

Grace glared at Joan, then rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"What is your problem?" 

"You're my problem."

Wondering if she'd stepped into an episode of _The Twilight Zone_, Joan exclaimed, "What did I do to you?"

"You really what to know?"

"I just asked, didn't I?"

"The incessant moping."

This was about moping? "What are you talking about?"

"You have been sulking nonstop since Rove left and it's driving me crazy."

"So you pick a fight with me?" Joan asked, incredulous. "That's mature, Grace."

"Just like it was mature for you to push him away in the first place," challenged Grace.

"I wasn't ready."

"That's what you always say. Then you whine and moan about how bad you messed up with him. Geez, Girardi, haven't you figured it out by now?"

Joan's jaw dropped at Grace's bitter statement. If she was that bad, why hadn't she said something before now? It wasn't like Grace was shy. Anger bubbled in her chest. Whatever Grace's problem was didn't mean she got to take it out on Joan. She wasn't the only one who could be confrontational. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I don't see you in any great, torrid romances . . ."

Grace gave her a this-is-me look. "Like you would."

". . . but then when you had the chance, you ran. So much for the great, fearless Grace Polk."

The sudden silence caught everyone off guard. Subconsciously, Joan realized Leila had crawled under the table to huddle in Kevin's lap. Rebecca and Kevin were staring at their plates and her parents were staring at each other. But Joan didn't care. 

"Why don't we all just step back before someone says something they'll regret?" Helen asked with a peace-making smile. 

Grace and Joan just stared at each other, livid and ignoring Helen. Deliberately, Grace threw down her napkin and got up from the table. "I have to go."

"Why? Does the truth hurt, Grace?"

With great, false calm, Grace said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then let me make it clear for you." Joan got up and followed Grace to the living room. "Luke. I'm talking about Luke."

"Shut it, Girardi."

"He liked you," she announced. "I think he even loved you. And what did you do? You shot him down every chance you got."

"My relationship with Luke is nothing like the one you have with Rove."

"That's right. It's not. You wouldn't let it." Unexpectedly, Joan felt tears fill her eyes. She impatiently blinked them away. "You may pride yourself on keeping your emotions to yourself, but I'm your friend. I'm not blind and I'm not stupid. You liked him back."

"You're delusional," Grace flung at Joan, but averted her eyes as she said it.

"And you're the reason I've only seen my little brother five times in eight years."

Grace's shocked eyes shot back to Joan's face. 

"Joan, that's enough," Will said. 

But Joan threw caution to the wind and shook her head. "No, it's not. Luke doesn't come home because it hurts him to see Grace. We all know it and so does she. "So, you want to judge me, Grace? Go ahead. But look at yourself first. You liked him. You probably even loved him like he did you. At least I was honest with Adam. He never doubted that I had feelings for him. I didn't shake his hand when he left for New York. I may have been afraid of hurting him, but I haven't been afraid to love him since eleventh grade. What's your excuse?"

Grace stepped up toe-to-toe with Joan. "Bite me," she enunciated, her eyes blazing with her fury. With that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the house.

The door slamming reverberated throughout the walls and sent a shudder through Joan. The anger that had moments before surged within her dissipated. Weakly, she rested a hand on the doorjamb. What had she just done?

"Joan?" Rebecca said gently.

She shook her head and covered her mouth. What had come over her? _Way to listen, Joan_. Comprehension dawned as God's words came back to her: . . . _for others, Adam's visit stirred up thoughts and feelings that have long been dormant_. Grace had been thinking of Luke. And, instead of commiserating with her, Joan had gone for the jugular. She felt sick. 

Without a word, she plodded up to her old room and locked the door behind her before collapsing on the bed. She had to fix this. How could she fix this? The question churned mercilessly in her mind, but she came up empty. 

Curling into a ball, Joan gave in to the tears she'd unconsciously held back. If only Adam were here. She laughed bleakly at the thought. Is that what had started this whole mess in the first place? Still, she wished he was with her now. Maybe then she'd have a hope of salvaging her friendship with Grace. 

Sighing, she pulled the covers up over her head. She felt lost with Adam and Grace. _So what are you going to do now?_ she thought. She didn't have a clue.


	13. Decisions, Decisions

A/N: Okay, after this, there's only one chapter left. I'm excited. Anyway, please let me know if there are any inconsistencies and such. In any case, happy reading. I hope you enjoy it. 

_ It was here. Joan stared at the thick envelope she'd just pulled from the mailbox. With a sigh, she headed for the apartment she still shared with Grace. Luckily, Grace had class and wouldn't be home until late. Joan didn't think she could handle her friend being around while she decided what to do._

_ When she got home, she tossed the packet on the dining table and made herself something to eat. Nothing like good, old-fashioned avoidance, she thought. Sandwich made, Joan sat and forced herself to open her mail and read the letter inside._

_ Dear Ms. Girardi,_

_ Congratulations on your acceptance to New York_

_ University's graduate psychology program . . ._

_ After carefully reviewing all of the information, Joan set it aside and considered her options. She had applied to four other grad schools and been accepted to three. Her application to NYU had been both last minute and against her better judgment, just something she had done to appease her advisor. Now her situation was almost laughable: she had the opportunity to move closer to the boyfriend she'd broken up with because she was afraid to move with him._

_ Her eyes misted at the thought of Adam. It had been eight long months since he'd left for New York. Though they hadn't spoken, Joan knew that he was doing well there. Grace had told her so. Grace had also admitted, after much badgering on Joan's part, that Adam never asked about her when they spoke. The knowledge hurt and a couple of tears spilled down her cheek. Angrily, she dashed them away. Why was she crying over him when he obviously didn't care about her anymore? Because you're still in love with him, you half-wit, she thought._

_ That was the problem. Because she still loved him, she feared she'd make a foolish decision and end up hurting even more than she already did. What if she decided to go to NYU? It was a big campus and a huge city; they wouldn't necessarily run into each other. It was even possible that, in the course of two years, they would never even see each other. They could coexist in the same city and never once have to endure each other's company. Except Joan knew better. If she went to NYU, she'd inevitably look Adam up, probably sooner than later. And, if his present behavior was any indication, he didn't want to have anything to do with her._

_ Joan pushed aside the untouched sandwich and gathered the NYU material. She took it to her room and stashed it away with the other three acceptance letters. Maybe if she gave it some time, she could think about it in terms of something other than Adam. She resolutely stuffed the file on her bookcase and lay on her bed, trying to read some book Kevin had recommended on her last visit home._

_ Thirty minutes later, she was still on the first page. Who was she kidding? Any decision she made concerning NYU would have Adam at its base. It was pathetic, but she knew her weakness all the same. She wasn't ready to face him. If she went to New York, she'd have to see him._

_ Hating herself for letting the idea of Adam dissuade her from the school, Joan got up and trashed the NYU information. "There," she said quietly. "Just make it easier on everybody." Joan sat in her desk chair and stared at the discarded packet, a sense of uneasy settling within her. This was the right decision, she assured herself. When the time was right, she'd see him. Assuming the right time ever came._

* * *

The music and laughter of Greg and Cassidy's engagement party faded into the background as Adam stared out of his living room window. The scene consisted of a quiet, apartment-lined street, the lights of Times Square winking in the distance like a promise. He used to love his view. Now it made him feel out of place, isolated.

Rodney's tall, lean frame appeared in the glass beside Adam's reflection. Six feet four and broad-shouldered, his roommate towered over him. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on his broad nose, accenting his strong, intelligent face. "What's up, man?" 

"Nothing much."

Chuckling, Rodney took a sip from his bottle of Heineken and said nothing.

"What?"

"Come on, man. I've lived with you over four years now. What's going on?"

Adam looked at the party over his shoulder. Greg and Cassidy had only been together for two years. They were prone to stormy arguments and break-ups. Yet they couldn't seem to live without each other. More than once, Greg had called and lamented a fresh break-up for hours. He didn't care who answered: Adam, Rodney, even Katrina. He'd heard the same about Cassidy. "I hope they'll be happy."

Rodney followed Adam's gaze and nodded. "Yeah, me too."

The two fell into a companionable silence. It was one of the things that made them such good friends. Rodney had a quiet disposition similar to Adam's. He knew how to let a person do things in their own time. Unless he thought a friend was hurting; then he pushed. They hadn't talked about his trip home in the three weeks since he'd come back. He'd been left alone—he suspected Rodney had told Kat to give him time since she hadn't asked him anything. 

"Kat's worried about you," he said as he took another sip of his beer.

With a wry smile, Adam said, "Kat's always worried about me."

"True. She's adopted you. You're like a little brother to her."

Just like that, Adam knew his reprieve was over. A glance at Rodney's carefully blank face confirmed his suspicion. Left to his own inclination, he wouldn't force Adam's confidence. But, for Kat's peace of mind, Rodney would do just about anything. He could relate. "I'm thinking about moving back to Arcadia."

"Things go that well with Joan?"

"I think so." Adam sipped the wine he'd just remembered he held. "But it's not just about her."

Rodney raised an eyebrow, but just asked, "What then?"

"New York no longer inspires me."

"For someone so uninspired, you been working awful hard lately."

Adam regarded their view once again and felt nothing. "I'm inspired, just not by New York. Not anymore."

"I know what you mean," Rodney said. "So what's stopping you?"

"From going home?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." Adam and Rodney turned to find Kat standing right behind them. They glanced each other, wondering how she'd managed to sneak up on them. She slipped her hand in Rodney's as she leaned in to kiss Adam's cheek. Where Rodney was the image of a serious but hip urban nerd, Katrina was nonchalant sensuality personified. Her golden-brown skin, voluptuous figure, and almond-shaped eyes belied her nurturing, fun-loving nature. Kat smiled with sympathetic eyes and stroked Adam's cheek. "You're afraid you've gotten your hopes up and it won't work out with Joan."

"This isn't just about her," he insisted.

"It's all about her, Sugar Bear," Kat said gently in her honeyed Southern drawl.

He tried to protest but knew it was no use. "You're right," he admitted grudgingly.

"Of course, I'm right."

Amused, Adam shook his head at her before sobering. "I don't want to rush things with her. It never works anyway."

"Moving back home ain't 'rushing things,'" Rodney pointed out.

"I know. It's complicated," he finished lamely.

"Not really," Rodney said.

"You know what you want: to be with Joan," Kat added supportively.

Adam stuffed his hands in his pockets. "And if she's not ready?"

"She loves you, right?"

"Yes, I believe she does."

"Then you'll know what to do. Don't fret about it." Kat smiled and gave him a brief hug. "Now I should get back to the party since you two are being so antisocial."

The two men watched her get lost in the crowd, then looked at each other. "She makes it sound so easy," Adam whispered.

"Maybe it is."

They stared out at the street below again, each deep in their own thoughts. Finally, Adam said, "I don't want to lose her again."

"Then don't." Rodney turned toward Adam and leaned against the window. "I can't imagine what you're going through—what you've been going through since I met you. But if I were you and it was Kat . . . I'd do whatever I had to do to be with her. Think about it, man." Clapping Adam on the shoulder, Rodney went after his girlfriend.

His friends' words swirling in his head, Adam turned his back on the view and watched the Greg and Cassidy dance. The memory of his last night with Joan filled his mind's eye. For a moment, he was lost in the feel of her in his arms, her sorrowful smiles, her autumn scent. Taking a fortifying sip of his wine, he wended his way through the party crowd and sat on the sofa. "Hey, Paul."

"Adam," Paul cried; he was a bit tipsy. "Where you been?"

"By the window," he admitted. "Um, do you have any time free tomorrow?"

Paul nodded, or rather, his head wobbled. "I do."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am."

Fighting back a smile, Adam said, "Do you mind if I stop by? There's something I need you to help me with."

Paul gave him a shaky smile. "Sure thing, buddy."

"Thanks, Paul." Adam got up and made his way to his bedroom. He closed the door, picked up the phone, and called Paul's home phone. He left a message reminding him of the discussion they'd just had and a time to expect him. Now that he had made his decision, Adam wasn't taking any chances. This time he was going to do things right.


	14. Still the One

_"Joan! Grace!" Helen called up the stairs. "Adam's here and Luke's ready." _

_Panic coursed through Joan. Butterflies rioted in her stomach. This was it. In a matter of seconds, she was going to walk out of her bedroom and down the staircase where Adam was waiting for her. In a matter of moments, he'd see her in full prom regalia. _

_ "You look fine, Girardi," Grace said for the fifth time in three minutes. "Let's go already. The sooner we leave, the sooner it'll be over. Better yet, we could just not go."_

_"I don't want to look fine." Joan glanced at the vision that was Grace. The midnight blue halter dress Joan had talked her into accentuated her petite figure. Under protest, she'd submitted to a soft, wavy bob and subtle makeup job. With her fists on her hips and an impatient scowl on her face, she looked like an ultra-glam girl warrior. The thought of Luke's reaction to Grace's new look was almost enough to overcome Joan's nervousness. Almost. "This is prom. I have to look better than fine. I need to look fabulous."_

_ "Rove would think you're the embodiment of beauty in a garbage bag." When Joan didn't look convinced, Grace marched across Joan's bedroom and spun her around to face the mirror. "That's not a garbage bag."_

_ Standing in front of a full-length mirror, Joan did a final, last-minute assessment. A shining mass of chestnut curls tumbled from an elegant updo. Wispy tendrils framed her face and caressed the sides of her neck. Hair, check._

_The tiniest hint of blush adorned her cheeks; she was flushed with anticipation as it was. The barest, most delicate lip color she could find made her mouth look moist and kissable. Her eyes had received the most attention. Light pink to soft rose eyeshadow made her eyes sparkle. Makeup, check._

_Her rose-pink silk gown, for which she'd hunted for three months, was both wrinkle- and lint-free. The fitted bodice with its cascade of small crimson roses narrowed into a flared, ankle-length skirt. A quick turn assured Joan that nothing puckered, pulled, cinched, bulged or embarrassed her in any way. Dress, check. _

_ "Can we go now?" Grace asked as a relieved smile lit Joan's face._

_ Picking up her matching fringed shawl and clutch purse, Joan glimpsed her reflection one last time. "Yes."_

_ "Finally." Grace scooped up her purse—Joan had talked her into it as well for practical reasons—and stalked out of the bedroom. _

_ They were almost at the staircase when Joan came to a stop._

_ "What now?" Grace asked, plainly exasperated._

_ "You go first."_

_ "What?" _

_ Joan smiled. "I want to see Luke's face when he sees you."_

_ "You go down first, then you can see it up close and personal." Though her tone was angry, Joan could swear Grace was blushing._

_ Wisely suppressing a giggle, she coaxed, "Please?"_

_ "Ugh." Disgusted, Grace rolled her eyes. "Why am I friends with you?"_

_ "Because life would be dull without me."_

_ "Sounds like a nice change." She turned and stalked down the stairs. _

_ Peeping around the corner, Joan could just make out Luke. His entire face went slack. _

_ "You look lovely, Grace," Helen said._

_ "Unchallenged." The sound of Adam's voice sent a little tremor up Joan's spine, but she didn't take her eyes off of her brother. _

_ Grace stopped in front of him and waited. Luke opened his mouth but nothing came out. He'd been struck speechless. He couldn't even move. Finally, he breathed, "Grace."_

_ "Don't say anything else," she warned, a genuinely amused smile on her lips. "You'll just hurt yourself."_

_ Joan clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. _

_ "Where's Jane?"_

_ "Coming," Grace said as she took the corsage Luke silently gave her._

_ "That's my cue," Joan whispered to herself. Cursing the staircase for being so long, she took a deep breath and started down. Her mother's gasp drew her attention. Helen stood off to the right with Will. Tears glittered in her mother's eyes while her father wore a look of stunned admiration. She flashed them a smile as her eyes sought Adam._

_ She found him standing in front of the rail opposite the bottom of the steps. Joan paused and gripped the banister. Not even her fondest daydreams had prepared her for how handsome he looked in his tuxedo. Time and space faded away and he was the only thing that mattered or existed. In that instant, she forgot how to breathe. _

I'm going to marry him one day.__

_ The thought flitted through her mind, unbidden. A sense of rightness flooded her being, a tender smile graced her lips, and she remembered to breathe. The thought, though new, felt like something she had always known: familiar, ever-present in the back of her mind. Just her consciousness of it was new. Her eyes never leaving him, she made it to the landing and stood for a moment, letting him see her without any barriers. _

_ His awestruck gaze slid over of her. Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers. In unison, they started toward each other until they met at the foot of the stairs. "Jane," he breathed much as Luke had just moments ago. "You look . . . there aren't words for how beautiful you look."_

_ She fingered his jacket lapel, delighting in the feel of his warm, firm chest beneath. "You look pretty amazing yourself."_

_ "I aim to please."_

_ Joan smiled. She knew that he only wore the tux because she had asked him to. She also knew that whatever he saw in her eyes now more than made up for any discomfort he felt. Hand resting on his shoulder, she drifted closer to him. "I am definitely pleased," she whispered as he leaned in to kiss her._

_ "Ahem."_

_ Adam jumped back and Joan gasped at Will's pointed cough. Both had forgotten they had an audience. Muttering an apology, Adam held up a previously unnoticed plastic container. _

_ Inside lay a small cluster of red, pink, and white baby roses surrounded by baby ferns. Thin gold and copper wires held the bundle together, the ends peeking out from among the blooms. "You made it?" she asked, overcome by the sweetness of the gesture._

_ He lifted the corsage revealing two thin strips of pale pink ribbon and shook his head. Tying it to her wrist, he said, "I modified it."_

_ "Thank you."_

_ "My pleasure."_

_ "Can we move this thing along?" Grace grumbled._

_ "Your mother's eager to take pictures," Will added. "I'd hate to disappoint her."_

_ The two-or-three picture session Joan had anticipated became five minutes of posing and rearranging. She was just short of horrified while Adam was trying not to laugh. Luke finally came out of his stupor to ask if Helen planned to do a prom retrospective and Grace wore such a deep glower she looked like a mini thundercloud. _

_ "That's enough, Helen."_

_ Reluctantly, she put down the camera. "But they're my babies, Will."_

_ At the identical looks of mortification on Luke and Joan's faces, Will wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her temple. "Go," he told them. "Have a good time."_

_ The four had almost made it to the door when Will said, "Adam, Luke, come here for a minute."_

_ Grace and Joan shared curious glances as the boys listened to whatever Will told them. Apparently, he didn't have much to say since the boys turned back to the girls mere seconds after they reached him. Luke wore a look of fascinated horror while Adam seemed to suffer from embarrassed amusement._

_ "Let's go before your parents think of anything else," he whispered when they reached the girls. _

_ "Tell me that did not just happen," Luke said after the front door closed behind them._

_ "Dude, it did," Adam choked out. His head dropped and his shoulders began to shake. Alarmed, Joan reached out to comfort him when she heard his snort of laughter._

_ "What happened?" Grace demanded as she pulled a shell-shocked Luke toward the waiting limo. Joan and Adam followed._

_ "He said have a good time and to look out for you two," Luke explained as he helped Grace into the limo. _

_ When the four were settled, Joan looked from Luke to Adam and said, "What else?"_

_ Adam looked at Luke to continue but he shook his head as if he couldn't bring himself to repeat what his father had said. Tamping down his renewed laughter, Adam said, "Your dad told us to 'avoid intimate situations.' We're to bring you back the way we found you."_

_ "Huh?" Joan asked seconds before comprehension dawned. "Oh, my god. He didn't."_

_ "Unfortunately, he did," Luke said._

_ Grace looked from Luke to Joan with surprisingly sympathetic eyes. "Your family is seriously cracked."_

_ "You think!" Joan exclaimed, her cheeks flaming. "Your dad is way normal compared to ours."_

_ "Mine, too," added Adam._

_ "You're lucky," Luke agreed._

_ "You know, I don't think I've ever met your mom," Joan said wonderingly. "Is she normal, too?"_

_ "Pretty much," Adam answered before Grace could._

_ Grace rolled her eyes at her friends and muttered, "Just crazy."_

_ Joan nestled into the curve of Adam's side and stared up into his sparkling eyes. "Promise you'll still love me despite the irrefutable evidence that insanity runs in my family," she requested teasingly._

_ Wrapping his arm around her waist, Adam pressed a kiss to her forehead. Smiling, he rested his forehead against hers and said, "It'll take more than that to make me stop loving you, Jane."_

_ Joan laid her head on his shoulder, truly content for the first time that night. Everything was right in her world just because she was in Adam's arms. His words replayed in her mind. Oh, yes, he was The One. She couldn't imagine finding anyone better to spend the rest of her life with._

* * *

"I'm going to walk the park," Joan announced as she and Helen finished straightening the buffet table. "You know, make sure that none of the kids are doing anything I would have done at their age."

Helen gave her daughter an I'm-not-amused look. "Not funny."

Laughing at her mother, Joan wrapped her arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "I'm just joking. We were good kids."

"I know." Helen hugged her daughter back, then gave her a once-over. "This is the happiest I've seen you since the argument."

"Grace and I talked." Smiling at the memory of their conversation that morning, Joan shrugged happily. "I don't know what made her break her silence, but I think we're going to be okay."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"So am I." Her happiness at the end of her recent slump bubbled over and she kissed her mother on the cheek. "I'm going to take that walk now. I'll be back," she said over her shoulder.

The past three weeks since the argument had been especially difficult for Joan. Grace had been so furious that she'd barely spoken to or looked at her. Her parents had been disappointed in both of them. And it had taken two weeks for Leila to look at Joan without whimpering and hiding behind Rebecca. The only good thing that had come out of the incident was the distraction it provided from Adam's continued silence.

Joan realized he was busy. Going home after taking a month-long break was bound to require a lot of his attention. Rationally, she knew that he couldn't call her every day and talk for hours. But the short, irregular phone calls they had made her doubt the future of their relationship. What if being back in New York undermined the closeness they had regained? What if he decided that it would be too complicated to get back together? The questions and uncertainties became so numerous she felt like snapping. It was little wonder to her that Grace had. And, for all of her obsessing in the five weeks since he'd gone back, what did she have to show for it? Nothing but confusion, frustration, and more questions.

"Hey."

"Hey," she answered, glancing at the source of the voice beside her. She did a double take. "Adam?"

He smiled one of his impossibly sweet smiles at her. "In the flesh."

"I didn't know you were here," she said as she stepped into his embrace. Her eyes drifted closed as she savored being in his arms again.

Adam chuckled against the side of her neck. "You were lost in thought when I showed up. Otherwise, you would've heard the commotion. Apparently, I have quite the fan club."

"I told you so." Joan pulled back and glared at him pointedly. "And I meant that I didn't know you were in town."

"I got in this morning." He stepped back and put his hands in his jeans pockets. "I called your place a little while ago and Grace told me you were here. She said you were having a seniors' picnic."

Joan spread out her arms as if encompassing the entire park. "This is all my doing."

"Impressive."

"Thanks." She drank in the sight of him. He looked good, refreshed. New York apparently agreed with him. The thought saddened her a little. "Walk with me?"

"Sure." He fell into step beside her. Joan studied Adam out of the corner of her eye as they made a circuit around the park. He was quiet as usual but something about his silence disturbed her. The tenuous state of their relationship had plagued her for weeks. His rather reflective mood, his distance, brought out her insecurity in force. "How was your flight?" she asked softly.

"Good."

"And New York?" she ventured when he relapsed into silence.

"Illuminating." A thoughtful frown marred his brow as he examined her. Finally, he said, "I did a lot of thinking about us."

Dread filled her at his somber tone. She silently prayed that the conclusions he'd come to were not the ones she feared.

"You were right not to go to New York with me."

"I was?"

Nodding, he said, "Our relationship has never been easy. Even though we were virtually inseparable, there was always something that came between us. At first, it was our insecurities and fears. We never quite mastered the ability to be truly open and honest with each other. I think it was because we were afraid of hurting each other and ourselves. Then, our aspirations got in the way."

Tears burned at the back of Joan's eyes at his words. Everything he'd said was true, but she wanted to deny it. They had been better than their problems. Why didn't he remember that?

"But for all our problems, being with you was the most natural thing in the world to me. There's something about you that reached me when no one and nothing else could. You reintroduced me to the world. I don't know where I'd be today if you hadn't come into my life. We meshed so perfectly. It never occurred to me that we needed to learn how to live without each other."

"I don't understand."

"You didn't come with me because you needed to figure out what you wanted for yourself, right?"

Joan nodded, unwilling to admit her past feelings.

"You also found out who you are without me. I went through it, too. I had to learn how to be—how to cope—on my own. It wasn't easy. It certainly wasn't pretty. Losing you was far worse than I'd ever imagined. But it was good. I didn't want to see it before, but you were right. We aren't the same people we used to be."

"We haven't changed that much."

Adam's lips twitched at the comment knowing he'd said the same thing not so long ago. "We've changed enough, Jane. All those years apart, living on opposite sides of the country; we were bound to outgrow who we were and what we had."

Her throat closed up at his words. He'd outgrown her?

"It took going back to New York to make me realize that." He stopped and faced her, his earnest hazel-green eyes holding hers. "Jane, we don't have the same relationship we had in school. And I don't want that relationship with you anymore."

"I see." Joan lowered her head and focused her heartbroken gaze on her hands. He didn't love her anymore. Something had happened in the past five weeks to change his feelings for her. Or maybe he'd just thought he had feelings for her when he was here, only to discover that he'd "outgrown" her when he got back home. She'd lost him for good this time.

With infinite tenderness, Adam took her hands in his. "Look at me."

She shook her head. If she looked at him now, she'd lose her self-control and bawl in front of Arcadia High's entire faculty and staff, not to mention half of its student body. She had too much pride for that.

His sigh tousled her hair. "Jane."

"Look, I get it, okay?" she declared, jerking her hands out of his and crossing her arms over her stomach. "You don't want to be with me. I get it."

Adam tipped her chin up, but she still wouldn't meet his eyes. "Look at me, Jane," he demanded.

Reluctantly, Joan raised her eyes to his gentle, smiling face.

"I could live without you, but my life would be a poor imitation of what it is meant to be. You are my missing piece, Jane. Without you, I'm okay. But with you, I'm whole.

"I want more than what we had in school. We weren't ready for this kind of relationship then. Neither of us really knew who we were individually. But we do now. I think we're both ready to move past our fears."

Adam cupped her dazed face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "I want to be with you, Jane. I love you. And I know you feel the same way about me. But I've learned my lesson. I'm not going to rush you. There are so many obstacles in our way. We'll take our time, as much time as you need. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here and I'm yours and I'm never leaving you again."

Her heart swelling, Joan let out a shuddery little chuckle. So many thoughts and emotions swirled inside her; she couldn't make sense of anything except for the fact that Adam loved her. He loved her and wanted to be with her.

Gently, he brushed her hair off her face. "That's all I really wanted to say—that I'll wait until you're ready. Anyway, I know you're busy right now. This picnic isn't going to run itself, so I'm going to go visit with your mom. Can I see you later?"

Joan nodded, still too overcome to speak.

"I'll see you tonight," he whispered as he brushed a kiss across her lips. Then he walked around her toward the table where Helen stood with some of the other faculty.

_Stop him_, a voice inside her insisted. "Adam," she said, her voice soft from shock. She cleared her throat and called after him. "Adam!"

He stopped and turned toward her. "Yeah?"

"I don't want to wait."

"What?"

"We've wasted too much time as it is. I don't want to wait. I know what I want. It's the same thing I've always wanted."

"Jane," he began gently, "you don't have to . . ."

"Yes, I do." Joan took a couple of steps toward him, not certain how to proceed. _Listen to your instincts, your heart. Learn to trust them. Trust yourself._ Taking a deep breath as God's words echoed in her mind, Joan decided to stop thinking and just let the words come. "I'm tired of playing it safe. Where did that get me? Alienated from the one person I need more than anyone else. I won't do that again.

"I want a life and a family with you, Adam. Little boys with your artist's soul and poignant smile. Little girls with your amazing heart and beautiful eyes. I want to laugh and cry and sing and dance and just be with you. All of life's ups and downs, its good and bad moments, I want to experience all of it with you."

She raised her hands as if they could explain the riot of emotions inside her. "Not being together these last few years made me realize how much I need you. You are _my_ missing piece. And, yeah, I guess I could live without you, too. But why would I when no one else comes close to you?"

A small smile pulled at the corners of Adam's mouth. She returned it and moved even closer to him.

"I know we have problems that need to be worked out. And I know we haven't been back in each other's lives for that long. But I know that you are the one I'm meant to spend my life with. I've known since I was eighteen years old. Maybe even before then. Adam, I love you so much. I don't need time. I'm ready now."

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Adam closed the distance between them. "You're ready?"

She nodded and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Absolutely."

Adam pulled his hands out of his pockets and knelt before Joan. He held an open ring box. A diamond engagement ring rested inside, its band made up of woven straps of burnished copper and gold. "Are you sure?"

With one hand covering her mouth and the other over her stomach as if to stop the rampaging butterflies inside, Joan tried to get her suddenly blank mind to function. She was vaguely aware of the enthralled silence of the park. She uncovered her mouth and tried to speak but no words came out. Desperation set in as she struggled to find words. The last thing she needed was for him to be angry with her.

Adam just smiled up at her and took her hand off of her stomach and held it. "Marry me, Jane."

Just like that, her paralysis faded away and she could think again. Joan returned his smile. "Yes," she whispered.

"Yes?"

She nodded. "A thousand times, yes."

Cheering erupted throughout the park as Adam slipped the ring onto her finger. He got to his feet and pulled her into his arms. "Are you sure you're sure?"

Joan giggled and took his face in her hands. "I'm sure and I'm yours and I'm never letting you go again," she whispered before kissing him. His arms tightened around her as he deepened the kiss, one hand buried in her thick hair. She arched against him, letting herself melt into his kiss. A sense of peace settled over her. This was where she belonged.

Eventually, Adam ended the kiss and rested his forehead on hers. "You're crying," he said as wiped a tear away.

"I'm happy." She smiled up at him. "You made my ring."

"With a friend's help."

"How did you know I'd say yes?"

"I didn't. I just wanted to be prepared if the right time came."

"I'm glad it did." A gang of excited students swarmed them, cutting off Adam's answer. As a group of slightly envious cheerleaders congratulated her, Joan noticed her mom making her way toward them, weeping happily.

A movement over Helen's shoulder caught Joan's eye. Lovely Woman God leaned against a tree, a pleased smile on Her lips. "Thank You," Joan mouthed. Lovely Woman God nodded, then waved and walked off into the crowd.

For the first time in a long time, Joan felt perfectly content. All the pieces of her life were in place. Things weren't perfect; there were still issues to resolve. But things were on the right track. She was confident that everything would work out for the best. Joan gazed at Adam. Her fiancé—her heart fluttered a little to call him that—gazed back.

Life was good.

The End.

A/N: Okay, so there it is. Yes, I know it's super fluffy, but I wanted a big finish. There are some loose ends, but rest assured that they'll be tied up in the next story.

I am so excited to have finished this. I've never finished a story before; certainly not one this long. I couldn't have done it without your reviews and stories. The reviews spurred me on and made me feel like I was producing something people would want to read. The stories helped me stay in character and provided insight that I didn't previously have. So thank you all.

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I have. Now on to new and, hopefully better, things.

Alexandri


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